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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Set of Six + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #2305] +Last Updated: September 10, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SET OF SIX *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + A SET OF SIX + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Joseph Conrad + </h2> +<div class="middle"> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <i>Les petites marionnettes<br /> Font, font, font, <br /> Trois + petits tours <br /> Et puis s’en vont</i>.<br /> —NURSERY RHYME <br /> + <br /> + </p> +</div> + <h3> + TO MISS M. H. M. CAPES + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> AUTHOR’S NOTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> GASPAR RUIZ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE INFORMER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE BRUTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> AN ANARCHIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE DUEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IL CONDE </a> + </p> + <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AUTHOR’S NOTE + </h2> + <p> + The six stories in this volume are the result of some three or four years + of occasional work. The dates of their writing are far apart, their + origins are various. None of them are connected directly with personal + experiences. In all of them the facts are inherently true, by which I mean + that they are not only possible but that they have actually happened. For + instance, the last story in the volume, the one I call Pathetic, whose + first title is Il Conde (misspelt by-the-by) is an almost verbatim + transcript of the tale told me by a very charming old gentleman whom I met + in Italy. I don’t mean to say it is only that. Anybody can see that it is + something more than a verbatim report, but where he left off and where I + began must be left to the acute discrimination of the reader who may be + interested in the problem. I don’t mean to say that the problem is worth + the trouble. What I am certain of, however, is that it is not to be + solved, for I am not at all clear about it myself by this time. All I can + say is that the personality of the narrator was extremely suggestive quite + apart from the story he was telling me. I heard a few years ago that he + had died far away from his beloved Naples where that “abominable + adventure” did really happen to him. + </p> + <p> + Thus the genealogy of Il Conde is simple. It is not the case with the + other stories. Various strains contributed to their composition, and the + nature of many of those I have forgotten, not having the habit of making + notes either before or after the fact. I mean the fact of writing a story. + What I remember best about Gaspar Ruiz is that it was written, or at any + rate begun, within a month of finishing Nostromo; but apart from the + locality, and that a pretty wide one (all the South American Continent), + the novel and the story have nothing in common, neither mood, nor + intention and, certainly, not the style. The manner for the most part is + that of General Santierra, and that old warrior, I note with satisfaction, + is very true to himself all through. Looking now dispassionately at the + various ways in which this story could have been presented I can’t + honestly think the General superfluous. It is he, an old man talking of + the days of his youth, who characterizes the whole narrative and gives it + an air of actuality which I doubt whether I could have achieved without + his help. In the mere writing his existence of course was of no help at + all, because the whole thing had to be carefully kept within the frame of + his simple mind. But all this is but a laborious searching of memories. My + present feeling is that the story could not have been told otherwise. The + hint for Gaspar Ruiz the man I found in a book by Captain Basil Hall, + R.N., who was for some time, between the years 1824 and 1828, senior + officer of a small British Squadron on the West Coast of South America. + His book published in the thirties obtained a certain celebrity and I + suppose is to be found still in some libraries. The curious who may be + mistrusting my imagination are referred to that printed document, Vol. II, + I forget the page, but it is somewhere not far from the end. Another + document connected with this story is a letter of a biting and ironic kind + from a friend then in Burma, passing certain strictures upon “the + gentleman with the gun on his back” which I do not intend to make + accessible to the public. Yet the gun episode did really happen, or at + least I am bound to believe it because I remember it, described in an + extremely matter-of-fact tone, in some book I read in my boyhood; and I am + not going to discard the beliefs of my boyhood for anybody on earth. + </p> + <p> + The Brute, which is the only sea-story in the volume, is, like Il Conde, + associated with a direct narrative and based on a suggestion gathered on + warm human lips. I will not disclose the real name of the criminal ship + but the first I heard of her homicidal habits was from the late Captain + Blake, commanding a London ship in which I served in 1884 as Second + Officer. Captain Blake was, of all my commanders, the one I remember with + the greatest affection. I have sketched in his personality, without + however mentioning his name, in the first paper of The Mirror of the Sea. + In his young days he had had a personal experience of the brute and it is + perhaps for that reason that I have put the story into the mouth of a + young man and made of it what the reader will see. The existence of the + brute was a fact. The end of the brute as related in the story is also a + fact, well-known at the time though it really happened to another ship, of + great beauty of form and of blameless character, which certainly deserved + a better fate. I have unscrupulously adapted it to the needs of my story + thinking that I had there something in the nature of poetical justice. I + hope that little villainy will not cast a shadow upon the general honesty + of my proceedings as a writer of tales. + </p> + <p> + Of The Informer and An Anarchist I will say next to nothing. The pedigree + of these tales is hopelessly complicated and not worth disentangling at + this distance of time. I found them and here they are. The discriminating + reader will guess that I have found them within my mind; but how they or + their elements came in there I have forgotten for the most part; and for + the rest I really don’t see why I should give myself away more than I have + done already. + </p> + <p> + It remains for me only now to mention The Duel, the longest story in the + book. That story attained the dignity of publication all by itself in a + small illustrated volume, under the title, “The Point of Honour.” That was + many years ago. It has been since reinstated in its proper place, which is + the place it occupies in this volume, in all the subsequent editions of my + work. Its pedigree is extremely simple. It springs from a ten-line + paragraph in a small provincial paper published in the South of France. + That paragraph, occasioned by a duel with a fatal ending between two + well-known Parisian personalities, referred for some reason or other to + the “well-known fact” of two officers in Napoleon’s Grand Army having + fought a series of duels in the midst of great wars and on some futile + pretext. The pretext was never disclosed. I had therefore to invent it; + and I think that, given the character of the two officers which I had to + invent, too, I have made it sufficiently convincing by the mere force of + its absurdity. The truth is that in my mind the story is nothing but a + serious and even earnest attempt at a bit of historical fiction. I had + heard in my boyhood a good deal of the great Napoleonic legend. I had a + genuine feeling that I would find myself at home in it, and The Duel is + the result of that feeling, or, if the reader prefers, of that + presumption. Personally I have no qualms of conscience about this piece of + work. The story might have been better told of course. All one’s work + might have been better done; but this is the sort of reflection a worker + must put aside courageously if he doesn’t mean every one of his + conceptions to remain for ever a private vision, an evanescent reverie. + How many of those visions have I seen vanish in my time! This one, + however, has remained, a testimony, if you like, to my courage or a proof + of my rashness. What I care to remember best is the testimony of some + French readers who volunteered the opinion that in those hundred pages or + so I had managed to render “wonderfully” the spirit of the whole epoch. + Exaggeration of kindness no doubt; but even so I hug it still to my + breast, because in truth that is exactly what I was trying to capture in + my small net: the Spirit of the Epoch—never purely militarist in the + long clash of arms, youthful, almost childlike in its exaltation of + sentiment—naively heroic in its faith. + </p> + <p> + 1920. J. C. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + A SET OF SIX + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + GASPAR RUIZ + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + A revolutionary war raises many strange characters out of the obscurity + which is the common lot of humble lives in an undisturbed state of + society. + </p> + <p> + Certain individualities grow into fame through their vices and their + virtues, or simply by their actions, which may have a temporary + importance; and then they become forgotten. The names of a few leaders + alone survive the end of armed strife and are further preserved in + history; so that, vanishing from men’s active memories, they still exist + in books. + </p> + <p> + The name of General Santierra attained that cold paper-and-ink + immortality. He was a South American of good family, and the books + published in his lifetime numbered him amongst the liberators of that + continent from the oppressive rule of Spain. + </p> + <p> + That long contest, waged for independence on one side and for dominion on + the other, developed in the course of years and the vicissitudes of + changing fortune the fierceness and inhumanity of a struggle for life. All + feelings of pity and compassion disappeared in the growth of political + hatred. And, as is usual in war, the mass of the people, who had the least + to gain by the issue, suffered most in their obscure persons and their + humble fortunes. + </p> + <p> + General Santierra began his service as lieutenant in the patriot army + raised and commanded by the famous San Martin, afterwards conqueror of + Lima and liberator of Peru. A great battle had just been fought on the + banks of the river Bio-Bio. Amongst the prisoners made upon the routed + Royalist troops there was a soldier called Gaspar Ruiz. His powerful build + and his big head rendered him remarkable amongst his fellow-captives. The + personality of the man was unmistakable. Some months before he had been + missed from the ranks of Republican troops after one of the many + skirmishes which preceded the great battle. And now, having been captured + arms in hand amongst Royalists, he could expect no other fate but to be + shot as a deserter. + </p> + <p> + Gaspar Ruiz, however, was not a deserter; his mind was hardly active + enough to take a discriminating view of the advantages or perils of + treachery. Why should he change sides? He had really been made a prisoner, + had suffered ill-usage and many privations. Neither side showed tenderness + to its adversaries. There came a day when he was ordered, together with + some other captured rebels, to march in the front rank of the Royal + troops. A musket had been thrust into his hands. He had taken it. He had + marched. He did not want to be killed with circumstances of peculiar + atrocity for refusing to march. He did not understand heroism but it was + his intention to throw his musket away at the first opportunity. Meantime + he had gone on loading and firing, from fear of having his brains blown + out at the first sign of unwillingness, by some non-commissioned officer + of the King of Spain. He tried to set forth these elementary + considerations before the sergeant of the guard set over him and some + twenty other such deserters, who had been condemned summarily to be shot. + </p> + <p> + It was in the quadrangle of the fort at the back of the batteries which + command the roadstead of Valparaiso. The officer who had identified him + had gone on without listening to his protestations. His doom was sealed; + his hands were tied very tightly together behind his back; his body was + sore all over from the many blows with sticks and butts of muskets which + had hurried him along on the painful road from the place of his capture to + the gate of the fort. This was the only kind of systematic attention the + prisoners had received from their escort during a four days’ journey + across a scantily watered tract of country. At the crossings of rare + streams they were permitted to quench their thirst by lapping hurriedly + like dogs. In the evening a few scraps of meat were thrown amongst them as + they dropped down dead-beat upon the stony ground of the halting-place. + </p> + <p> + As he stood in the courtyard of the castle in the early morning, after + having been driven hard all night, Gaspar Ruiz’s throat was parched, and + his tongue felt very large and dry in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + And Gaspar Ruiz, besides being very thirsty, was stirred by a feeling of + sluggish anger, which he could not very well express, as though the vigour + of his spirit were by no means equal to the strength of his body. + </p> + <p> + The other prisoners in the batch of the condemned hung their heads, + looking obstinately on the ground. But Gaspar Ruiz kept on repeating: + “What should I desert for to the Royalists? Why should I desert? Tell me, + Estaban!” + </p> + <p> + He addressed himself to the sergeant, who happened to belong to the same + part of the country as himself. But the sergeant, after shrugging his + meagre shoulders once, paid no further attention to the deep murmuring + voice at his back. It was indeed strange that Gaspar Ruiz should desert. + His people were in too humble a station to feel much the disadvantages of + any form of government. There was no reason why Gaspar Ruiz should wish to + uphold in his own person the rule of the King of Spain. Neither had he + been anxious to exert himself for its subversion. He had joined the side + of Independence in an extremely reasonable and natural manner. A band of + patriots appeared one morning early, surrounding his father’s ranche, + spearing the watch-dogs and ham-stringing a fat cow all in the twinkling + of an eye, to the cries of “Viva la Libertad!” Their officer discoursed of + Liberty with enthusiasm and eloquence after a long and refreshing sleep. + When they left in the evening, taking with them some of Ruiz, the + father’s, best horses to replace their own lamed animals, Gaspar Ruiz went + away with them, having been invited pressingly to do so by the eloquent + officer. + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards a detachment of Royalist troops coming to pacify the + district, burnt the ranche, carried off the remaining horses and cattle, + and having thus deprived the old people of all their worldly possessions, + left them sitting under a bush in the enjoyment of the inestimable boon of + life. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + Gaspar Ruiz, condemned to death as a deserter, was not thinking either of + his native place or of his parents, to whom he had been a good son on + account of the mildness of his character and the great strength of his + limbs. The practical advantage of this last was made still more valuable + to his father by his obedient disposition. Gaspar Ruiz had an acquiescent + soul. + </p> + <p> + But it was stirred now to a sort of dim revolt by his dislike to die the + death of a traitor. He was not a traitor. He said again to the sergeant: + “You know I did not desert, Estaban. You know I remained behind amongst + the trees with three others to keep the enemy back while the detachment + was running away!” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Santierra, little more than a boy at the time, and unused as + yet to the sanguinary imbecilities of a state of war, had lingered near + by, as if fascinated by the sight of these men who were to be shot + presently—“for an example”—as the Commandante had said. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant, without deigning to look at the prisoner, addressed himself + to the young officer with a superior smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ten men would not have been enough to make him a prisoner, mi teniente. + Moreover, the other three rejoined the detachment after dark. Why should + he, unwounded and the strongest of them all, have failed to do so?” + </p> + <p> + “My strength is as nothing against a mounted man with a lasso,” Gaspar + Ruiz protested, eagerly. “He dragged me behind his horse for half a mile.” + </p> + <p> + At this excellent reason the sergeant only laughed contemptuously. The + young officer hurried away after the Commandante. + </p> + <p> + Presently the adjutant of the castle came by. He was a truculent, + raw-boned man in a ragged uniform. His spluttering voice issued out of a + flat yellow face. The sergeant learned from him that the condemned men + would not be shot till sunset. He begged then to know what he was to do + with them meantime. + </p> + <p> + The adjutant looked savagely round the courtyard and, pointing to the door + of a small dungeon-like guardroom, receiving light and air through one + heavily barred window, said: “Drive the scoundrels in there.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant, tightening his grip upon the stick he carried in virtue of + his rank, executed this order with alacrity and zeal. He hit Gaspar Ruiz, + whose movements were slow, over his head and shoulders. Gaspar Ruiz stood + still for a moment under the shower of blows, biting his lip thoughtfully + as if absorbed by a perplexing mental process—then followed the + others without haste. The door was locked, and the adjutant carried off + the key. + </p> + <p> + By noon the heat of that vaulted place crammed to suffocation had become + unbearable. The prisoners crowded towards the window, begging their guards + for a drop of water; but the soldiers remained lying in indolent attitudes + wherever there was a little shade under a wall, while the sentry sat with + his back against the door smoking a cigarette, and raising his eyebrows + philosophically from time to time. Gaspar Ruiz had pushed his way to the + window with irresistible force. His capacious chest needed more air than + the others; his big face, resting with its chin on the ledge, pressed + close to the bars, seemed to support the other faces crowding up for + breath. From moaned entreaties they had passed to desperate cries, and the + tumultuous howling of those thirsty men obliged a young officer who was + just then crossing the courtyard to shout in order to make himself heard. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you give some water to these prisoners?” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant, with an air of surprised innocence, excused himself by the + remark that all those men were condemned to die in a very few hours. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Santierra stamped his foot. “They are condemned to death, not + to torture,” he shouted. “Give them some water at once.” + </p> + <p> + Impressed by this appearance of anger, the soldiers bestirred themselves, + and the sentry, snatching up his musket, stood to attention. + </p> + <p> + But when a couple of buckets were found and filled from the well, it was + discovered that they could not be passed through the bars, which were set + too close. At the prospect of quenching their thirst, the shrieks of those + trampled down in the struggle to get near the opening became very + heartrending. But when the soldiers who had lifted the buckets towards the + window put them to the ground again helplessly, the yell of disappointment + was still more terrible. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers of the army of Independence were not equipped with canteens. + A small tin cup was found, but its approach to the opening caused such a + commotion, such yells of rage and pain in the vague mass of limbs behind + the straining faces at the window, that Lieutenant Santierra cried out + hurriedly, “No, no—you must open the door, sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant, shrugging his shoulders, explained that he had no right to + open the door even if he had had the key. But he had not the key. The + adjutant of the garrison kept the key. Those men were giving much + unnecessary trouble, since they had to die at sunset in any case. Why they + had not been shot at once early in the morning he could not understand. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Santierra kept his back studiously to the window. It was at his + earnest solicitations that the Commandante had delayed the execution. This + favour had been granted to him in consideration of his distinguished + family and of his father’s high position amongst the chiefs of the + Republican party. Lieutenant Santierra believed that the General + commanding would visit the fort some time in the afternoon, and he + ingenuously hoped that his naive intercession would induce that severe man + to pardon some, at least, of those criminals. In the revulsion of his + feeling his interference stood revealed now as guilty and futile meddling. + It appeared to him obvious that the general would never even consent to + listen to his petition. He could never save those men, and he had only + made himself responsible for the sufferings added to the cruelty of their + fate. + </p> + <p> + “Then go at once and get the key from the adjutant,” said Lieutenant + Santierra. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant shook his head with a sort of bashful smile, while his eyes + glanced sideways at Gaspar Ruiz’s face, motionless and silent, staring + through the bars at the bottom of a heap of other haggard, distorted, + yelling faces. + </p> + <p> + His worship the adjutant de Plaza, the sergeant murmured, was having his + siesta; and supposing that he, the sergeant, would be allowed access to + him, the only result he expected would be to have his soul flogged out of + his body for presuming to disturb his worship’s repose. He made a + deprecatory movement with his hands, and stood stock-still, looking down + modestly upon his brown toes. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Santierra glared with indignation, but hesitated. His handsome + oval face, as smooth as a girl’s, flushed with the shame of his + perplexity. Its nature humiliated his spirit. His hairless upper lip + trembled; he seemed on the point of either bursting into a fit of rage or + into tears of dismay. + </p> + <p> + Fifty years later, General Santierra, the venerable relic of revolutionary + times, was well able to remember the feelings of the young lieutenant. + Since he had given up riding altogether, and found it difficult to walk + beyond the limits of his garden, the general’s greatest delight was to + entertain in his house the officers of the foreign men-of-war visiting the + harbour. For Englishmen he had a preference, as for old companions in + arms. English naval men of all ranks accepted his hospitality with + curiosity, because he had known Lord Cochrane and had taken part, on board + the patriot squadron commanded by that marvellous seaman, in the cutting + out and blockading operations before Callao—an episode of unalloyed + glory in the wars of Independence and of endless honour in the fighting + tradition of Englishmen. He was a fair linguist, this ancient survivor of + the Liberating armies. A trick of smoothing his long white beard whenever + he was short of a word in French or English imparted an air of leisurely + dignity to the tone of his reminiscences. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friends,” he used to say to his guests, “what would you have? A + youth of seventeen summers, without worldly experience, and owing my rank + only to the glorious patriotism of my father, may God rest his soul. I + suffered immense humiliation, not so much from the disobedience of that + subordinate, who, after all, was responsible for those prisoners; but I + suffered because, like the boy I was, I myself dreaded going to the + adjutant for the key. I had felt, before, his rough and cutting tongue. + Being quite a common fellow, with no merit except his savage valour, he + made me feel his contempt and dislike from the first day I joined my + battalion in garrison at the fort. It was only a fortnight before! I would + have confronted him sword in hand, but I shrank from the mocking brutality + of his sneers. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t remember having been so miserable in my life before or since. The + torment of my sensibility was so great that I wished the sergeant to fall + dead at my feet, and the stupid soldiers who stared at me to turn into + corpses; and even those wretches for whom my entreaties had procured a + reprieve I wished dead also, because I could not face them without shame. + A mephitic heat like a whiff of air from hell came out of that dark place + in which they were confined. Those at the window who had heard what was + going on jeered at me in very desperation: one of these fellows, gone mad + no doubt, kept on urging me volubly to order the soldiers to fire through + the window. His insane loquacity made my heart turn faint. And my feet + were like lead. There was no higher officer to whom I could appeal. I had + not even the firmness of spirit to simply go away. + </p> + <p> + “Benumbed by my remorse, I stood with my back to the window. You must not + suppose that all this lasted a long time. How long could it have been? A + minute? If you measured by mental suffering it was like a hundred years; a + longer time than all my life has been since. No, certainly, it was not so + much as a minute. The hoarse screaming of those miserable wretches died + out in their dry throats, and then suddenly a voice spoke, a deep voice + muttering calmly. It called upon me to turn round. + </p> + <p> + “That voice, senores, proceeded from the head of Gaspar Ruiz. Of his body + I could see nothing. Some of his fellow-captives had clambered upon his + back. He was holding them up. His eyes blinked without looking at me. That + and the moving of his lips was all he seemed able to manage in his + overloaded state. And when I turned round, this head, that seemed more + than human size resting on its chin under a multitude of other heads, + asked me whether I really desired to quench the thirst of the captives. + </p> + <p> + “I said, ‘Yes, yes!’ eagerly, and came up quite close to the window. I was + like a child, and did not know what would happen. I was anxious to be + comforted in my helplessness and remorse. + </p> + <p> + “‘Have you the authority, Senor teniente, to release my wrists from their + bonds?’ Gaspar Ruiz’s head asked me. + </p> + <p> + “His features expressed no anxiety, no hope; his heavy eyelids blinked + upon his eyes that looked past me straight into the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “As if in an ugly dream, I spoke, stammering: ‘What do you mean? And how + can I reach the bonds on your wrists?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I will try what I can do,’ he said; and then that large staring head + moved at last, and all the wild faces piled up in that window disappeared, + tumbling down. He had shaken his load off with one movement, so strong he + was. + </p> + <p> + “And he had not only shaken it off, but he got free of the crush and + vanished from my sight. For a moment there was no one at all to be seen at + the window. He had swung about, butting and shouldering, clearing a space + for himself in the only way he could do it with his hands tied behind his + back. + </p> + <p> + “Finally, backing to the opening, he pushed out to me between the bars his + wrists, lashed with many turns of rope. His hands, very swollen, with + knotted veins, looked enormous and unwieldy. I saw his bent back. It was + very broad. His voice was like the muttering of a bull. + </p> + <p> + “‘Cut, Senor teniente. Cut!’ + </p> + <p> + “I drew my sword, my new unblunted sword that had seen no service as yet, + and severed the many turns of the hide rope. I did this without knowing + the why and the wherefore of my action, but as it were compelled by my + faith in that man. The sergeant made as if to cry out, but astonishment + deprived him of his voice, and he remained standing with his mouth open as + if overtaken by sudden imbecility. + </p> + <p> + “I sheathed my sword and faced the soldiers. An air of awestruck + expectation had replaced their usual listless apathy. I heard the voice of + Gaspar Ruiz shouting inside, but the words I could not make out plainly. I + suppose that to see him with his arms free augmented the influence of his + strength: I mean by this, the spiritual influence that with ignorant + people attaches to an exceptional degree of bodily vigour. In fact, he was + no more to be feared than before, on account of the numbness of his arms + and hands, which lasted for some time. + </p> + <p> + “The sergeant had recovered his power of speech. ‘By all the saints!’ he + cried, ‘we shall have to get a cavalry man with a lasso to secure him + again, if he is to be led to the place of execution. Nothing less than a + good enlazador on a good horse can subdue him. Your worship was pleased to + perform a very mad thing.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had nothing to say. I was surprised myself, and I felt a childish + curiosity to see what would happen next. But the sergeant was thinking of + the difficulty of controlling Gaspar Ruiz when the time for making an + example would come. + </p> + <p> + “‘Or perhaps,’ the sergeant pursued, vexedly, ‘we shall be obliged to + shoot him down as he dashes out when the door is opened.’ He was going to + give further vent to his anxieties as to the proper carrying out of the + sentence; but he interrupted himself with a sudden exclamation, snatched a + musket from a soldier, and stood watchful with his eyes fixed on the + window.” + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + “Gaspar Ruiz had clambered up on the sill, and sat down there with his + feet against the thickness of the wall and his knees slightly bent. The + window was not quite broad enough for the length of his legs. It appeared + to my crestfallen perception that he meant to keep the window all to + himself. He seemed to be taking up a comfortable position. Nobody inside + dared to approach him now he could strike with his hands. + </p> + <p> + “‘Por Dios!’ I heard the sergeant muttering at my elbow, ‘I shall shoot + him through the head now, and get rid of that trouble. He is a condemned + man.’ + </p> + <p> + “At that I looked at him angrily. ‘The general has not confirmed the + sentence,’ I said—though I knew well in my heart that these were but + vain words. The sentence required no confirmation. ‘You have no right to + shoot him unless he tries to escape,’ I added, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “‘But sangre de Dios!’ the sergeant yelled out, bringing his musket up to + the shoulder, ‘he is escaping now. Look!’ + </p> + <p> + “But I, as if that Gaspar Ruiz had cast a spell upon me, struck the musket + upward, and the bullet flew over the roofs somewhere. The sergeant dashed + his arm to the ground and stared. He might have commanded the soldiers to + fire, but he did not. And if he had he would not have been obeyed, I + think, just then. + </p> + <p> + “With his feet against the thickness of the wall and his hairy hands + grasping the iron bar, Gaspar sat still. It was an attitude. Nothing + happened for a time. And suddenly it dawned upon us that he was + straightening his bowed back and contracting his arms. His lips were + twisted into a snarl. Next thing we perceived was that the bar of forged + iron was being bent slowly by the mightiness of his pull. The sun was + beating full upon his cramped, unquivering figure. A shower of sweat-drops + burst out of his forehead. Watching the bar grow crooked, I saw a little + blood ooze from under his finger-nails. Then he let go. For a moment he + remained all huddled up, with a hanging head, looking drowsily into the + upturned palms of his mighty hands. Indeed he seemed to have dozed off. + Suddenly he flung himself backwards on the sill, and setting the soles of + his bare feet against the other middle bar, he bent that one, too, but in + the opposite direction from the first. + </p> + <p> + “Such was his strength, which in this case relieved my painful feelings. + And the man seemed to have done nothing. Except for the change of position + in order to use his feet, which made us all start by its swiftness, my + recollection is that of immobility. But he had bent the bars wide apart. + And now he could get out if he liked; but he dropped his legs inwards, and + looking over his shoulder beckoned to the soldiers. ‘Hand up the water,’ + he said. ‘I will give them all a drink.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was obeyed. For a moment I expected man and bucket to disappear, + overwhelmed by the rush of eagerness; I thought they would pull him down + with their teeth. There was a rush, but holding the bucket on his lap he + repulsed the assault of those wretches by the mere swinging of his feet. + They flew backwards at every kick, yelling with pain; and the soldiers + laughed, gazing at the window. + </p> + <p> + “They all laughed, holding their sides, except the sergeant, who was + gloomy and morose. He was afraid the prisoners would rise and break out—which + would have been a bad example. But there was no fear of that, and I stood + myself before the window with my drawn sword. When sufficiently tamed by + the strength of Gaspar Ruiz they came up one by one, stretching their + necks and presenting their lips to the edge of the bucket which the strong + man tilted towards them from his knees with an extraordinary air of + charity, gentleness, and compassion. That benevolent appearance was of + course the effect of his care in not spilling the water and of his + attitude as he sat on the sill; for, if a man lingered with his lips glued + to the rim of the bucket after Gaspar Ruiz had said ‘You have had enough,’ + there would be no tenderness or mercy in the shove of the foot which would + send him groaning and doubled up far into the interior of the prison, + where he would knock down two or three others before he fell himself. They + came up to him again and again; it looked as if they meant to drink the + well dry before going to their death; but the soldiers were so amused by + Gaspar Ruiz’s systematic proceedings that they carried the water up to the + window cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “When the adjutant came out after his siesta there was some trouble over + this affair, I can assure you. And the worst of it was that the general + whom we expected never came to the castle that day.” + </p> + <p> + The guests of General Santierra unanimously expressed their regret that + the man of such strength and patience had not been saved. + </p> + <p> + “He was not saved by my interference,” said the General. “The prisoners + were led to execution half an hour before sunset. Gaspar Ruiz, contrary to + the sergeant’s apprehensions, gave no trouble. There was no necessity to + get a cavalry man with a lasso in order to subdue him, as if he were a + wild bull of the campo. I believe he marched out with his arms free + amongst the others who were bound. I did not see. I was not there. I had + been put under arrest for interfering with the prisoner’s guard. About + dusk, sitting dismally in my quarters, I heard three volleys fired, and + thought that I should never hear of Gaspar Ruiz again. He fell with the + others. But we were to hear of him nevertheless, though the sergeant + boasted that as he lay on his face expiring or dead in the heap of the + slain, he had slashed his neck with a sword. He had done this, he said, to + make sure of ridding the world of a dangerous traitor. + </p> + <p> + “I confess to you, senores, that I thought of that strong man with a sort + of gratitude, and with some admiration. He had used his strength + honourably. There dwelt, then, in his soul no fierceness corresponding to + the vigour of his body.” + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + Gaspar Ruiz, who could with ease bend apart the heavy iron bars of the + prison, was led out with others to summary execution. “Every bullet has + its billet,” runs the proverb. All the merit of proverbs consists in the + concise and picturesque expression. In the surprise of our minds is found + their persuasiveness. In other words, we are struck and convinced by the + shock. + </p> + <p> + What surprises us is the form, not the substance. Proverbs are art—cheap + art. As a general rule they are not true; unless indeed they happen to be + mere platitudes, as for instance the proverb, “Half a loaf is better than + no bread,” or “A miss is as good as a mile.” Some proverbs are simply + imbecile, others are immoral. That one evolved out of the naive heart of + the great Russian people, “Man discharges the piece, but God carries the + bullet,” is piously atrocious, and at bitter variance with the accepted + conception of a compassionate God. It would indeed be an inconsistent + occupation for the Guardian of the poor, the innocent, and the helpless, + to carry the bullet, for instance, into the heart of a father. + </p> + <p> + Gaspar Ruiz was childless, he had no wife, he had never been in love. He + had hardly ever spoken to a woman, beyond his mother and the ancient + negress of the household, whose wrinkled skin was the colour of cinders, + and whose lean body was bent double from age. If some bullets from those + muskets fired off at fifteen paces were specifically destined for the + heart of Gaspar Ruiz, they all missed their billet. One, however, carried + away a small piece of his ear, and another a fragment of flesh from his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + A red and unclouded sun setting into a purple ocean looked with a fiery + stare upon the enormous wall of the Cordilleras, worthy witnesses of his + glorious extinction. But it is inconceivable that it should have seen the + ant-like men busy with their absurd and insignificant trials of killing + and dying for reasons that, apart from being generally childish, were also + imperfectly understood. It did light up, however, the backs of the firing + party and the faces of the condemned men. Some of them had fallen on their + knees, others remained standing, a few averted their heads from the + levelled barrels of muskets. Gaspar Ruiz, upright, the burliest of them + all, hung his big shock head. The low sun dazzled him a little, and he + counted himself a dead man already. + </p> + <p> + He fell at the first discharge. He fell because he thought he was a dead + man. He struck the ground heavily. The jar of the fall surprised him. “I + am not dead apparently,” he thought to himself, when he heard the + execution platoon reloading its arms at the word of command. It was then + that the hope of escape dawned upon him for the first time. He remained + lying stretched out with rigid limbs under the weight of two bodies + collapsed crosswise upon his back. + </p> + <p> + By the time the soldiers had fired a third volley into the slightly + stirring heaps of the slain, the sun had gone out of sight, and almost + immediately with the darkening of the ocean dusk fell upon the coasts of + the young Republic. Above the gloom of the lowlands the snowy peaks of the + Cordilleras remained luminous and crimson for a long time. The soldiers + before marching back to the fort sat down to smoke. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant with a naked sword in his hand strolled away by himself along + the heap of the dead. He was a humane man, and watched for any stir or + twitch of limb in the merciful idea of plunging the point of his blade + into any body giving the slightest sign of life. But none of the bodies + afforded him an opportunity for the display of this charitable intention. + Not a muscle twitched amongst them, not even the powerful muscles of + Gaspar Ruiz, who, deluged with the blood of his neighbours and shamming + death, strove to appear more lifeless than the others. + </p> + <p> + He was lying face down. The sergeant recognized him by his stature, and + being himself a very small man, looked with envy and contempt at the + prostration of so much strength. He had always disliked that particular + soldier. Moved by an obscure animosity, he inflicted a long gash across + the neck of Gaspar Ruiz, with some vague notion of making sure of that + strong man’s death, as if a powerful physique were more able to resist the + bullets. For the sergeant had no doubt that Gaspar Ruiz had been shot + through in many places. Then he passed on, and shortly afterwards marched + off with his men, leaving the bodies to the care of crows and vultures. + </p> + <p> + Gaspar Ruiz had restrained a cry, though it had seemed to him that his + head was cut off at a blow; and when darkness came, shaking off the dead, + whose weight had oppressed him, he crawled away over the plain on his + hands and knees. After drinking deeply, like a wounded beast, at a shallow + stream, he assumed an upright posture, and staggered on light-headed and + aimless, as if lost amongst the stars of the clear night. A small house + seemed to rise out of the ground before him. He stumbled into the porch + and struck at the door with his fist. There was not a gleam of light. + Gaspar Ruiz might have thought that the inhabitants had fled from it, as + from many others in the neighbourhood, had it not been for the shouts of + abuse that answered his thumping. In his feverish and enfeebled state the + angry screaming seemed to him part of a hallucination belonging to the + weird, dreamlike feeling of his unexpected condemnation to death, of the + thirst suffered, of the volleys fired at him within fifteen paces, of his + head being cut off at a blow. “Open the door!” he cried. “Open in the name + of God!” + </p> + <p> + An infuriated voice from within jeered at him: “Come in, come in. This + house belongs to you. All this land belongs to you. Come and take it.” + </p> + <p> + “For the love of God,” Gaspar Ruiz murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Does not all the land belong to you patriots?” the voice on the other + side of the door screamed on. “Are you not a patriot?” + </p> + <p> + Gaspar Ruiz did not know. “I am a wounded man,” he said, apathetically. + </p> + <p> + All became still inside. Gaspar Ruiz lost the hope of being admitted, and + lay down under the porch just outside the door. He was utterly careless of + what was going to happen to him. All his consciousness seemed to be + concentrated in his neck, where he felt a severe pain. His indifference as + to his fate was genuine. The day was breaking when he awoke from a + feverish doze; the door at which he had knocked in the dark stood wide + open now, and a girl, steadying herself with her outspread arms, leaned + over the threshold. Lying on his back, he stared up at her. Her face was + pale and her eyes were very dark; her hair hung down black as ebony + against her white cheeks; her lips were full and red. Beyond her he saw + another head with long grey hair, and a thin old face with a pair of + anxiously clasped hands under the chin. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + “I knew those people by sight,” General Santierra would tell his guests at + the dining-table. “I mean the people with whom Gaspar Ruiz found shelter. + The father was an old Spaniard, a man of property ruined by the + revolution. His estates, his house in town, his money, everything he had + in the world had been confiscated by proclamation, for he was a bitter foe + of our independence. From a position of great dignity and influence on the + Viceroy’s Council he became of less importance than his own negro slaves + made free by our glorious revolution. He had not even the means to flee + the country, as other Spaniards had managed to do. It may be that, + wandering ruined and houseless, and burdened with nothing but his life, + which was left to him by the clemency of the Provisional Government, he + had simply walked under that broken roof of old tiles. It was a lonely + spot. There did not seem to be even a dog belonging to the place. But + though the roof had holes, as if a cannon-ball or two had dropped through + it, the wooden shutters were thick and tight-closed all the time. + </p> + <p> + “My way took me frequently along the path in front of that miserable + rancho. I rode from the fort to the town almost every evening, to sigh at + the window of a lady I was in love with, then. When one is young, you + understand. . . . She was a good patriot, you may believe. Caballeros, + credit me or not, political feeling ran so high in those days that I do + not believe I could have been fascinated by the charms of a woman of + Royalist opinions. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Murmurs of amused incredulity all round the table interrupted the General; + and while they lasted he stroked his white beard gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Senores,” he protested, “a Royalist was a monster to our overwrought + feelings. I am telling you this in order not to be suspected of the + slightest tenderness towards that old Royalist’s daughter. Moreover, as + you know, my affections were engaged elsewhere. But I could not help + noticing her on rare occasions when with the front door open she stood in + the porch. + </p> + <p> + “You must know that this old Royalist was as crazy as a man can be. His + political misfortunes, his total downfall and ruin, had disordered his + mind. To show his contempt for what we patriots could do, he affected to + laugh at his imprisonment, at the confiscation of his lands, the burning + of his houses, and at the misery to which he and his womenfolk were + reduced. This habit of laughing had grown upon him, so that he would begin + to laugh and shout directly he caught sight of any stranger. That was the + form of his madness. + </p> + <p> + “I, of course, disregarded the noise of that madman with that feeling of + superiority the success of our cause inspired in us Americans. I suppose I + really despised him because he was an old Castilian, a Spaniard born, and + a Royalist. Those were certainly no reasons to scorn a man; but for + centuries Spaniards born had shown their contempt of us Americans, men as + well descended as themselves, simply because we were what they called + colonists. We had been kept in abasement and made to feel our inferiority + in social intercourse. And now it was our turn. It was safe for us + patriots to display the same sentiments; and I being a young patriot, son + of a patriot, despised that old Spaniard, and despising him I naturally + disregarded his abuse, though it was annoying to my feelings. Others + perhaps would not have been so forbearing. + </p> + <p> + “He would begin with a great yell—‘I see a patriot. Another of + them!’ long before I came abreast of the house. The tone of his senseless + revilings, mingled with bursts of laughter, was sometimes piercingly + shrill and sometimes grave. It was all very mad; but I felt it incumbent + upon my dignity to check my horse to a walk without even glancing towards + the house, as if that man’s abusive clamour in the porch were less than + the barking of a cur. Always I rode by preserving an expression of haughty + indifference on my face. + </p> + <p> + “It was no doubt very dignified; but I should have done better if I had + kept my eyes open. A military man in war time should never consider + himself off duty; and especially so if the war is a revolutionary war, + when the enemy is not at the door, but within your very house. At such + times the heat of passionate convictions passing into hatred, removes the + restraints of honour and humanity from many men and of delicacy and fear + from some women. These last, when once they throw off the timidity and + reserve of their sex, become by the vivacity of their intelligence and the + violence of their merciless resentment more dangerous than so many armed + giants.” + </p> + <p> + The General’s voice rose, but his big hand stroked his white beard twice + with an effect of venerable calmness. “Si, Senores! Women are ready to + rise to the heights of devotion unattainable by us men, or to sink into + the depths of abasement which amazes our masculine prejudices. I am + speaking now of exceptional women, you understand. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Here one of the guests observed that he had never met a woman yet who was + not capable of turning out quite exceptional under circumstances that + would engage her feelings strongly. “That sort of superiority in + recklessness they have over us,” he concluded, “makes of them the more + interesting half of mankind.” + </p> + <p> + The General, who bore the interruption with gravity, nodded courteous + assent. “Si. Si. Under circumstances. . . . Precisely. They can do an + infinite deal of mischief sometimes in quite unexpected ways. For who + could have imagined that a young girl, daughter of a ruined Royalist whose + life was held only by the contempt of his enemies, would have had the + power to bring death and devastation upon two flourishing provinces and + cause serious anxiety to the leaders of the revolution in the very hour of + its success!” He paused to let the wonder of it penetrate our minds. + </p> + <p> + “Death and devastation,” somebody murmured in surprise: “how shocking!” + </p> + <p> + The old General gave a glance in the direction of the murmur and went on. + “Yes. That is, war—calamity. But the means by which she obtained the + power to work this havoc on our southern frontier seem to me, who have + seen her and spoken to her, still more shocking. That particular thing + left on my mind a dreadful amazement which the further experience of life, + of more than fifty years, has done nothing to diminish.” He looked round + as if to make sure of our attention, and, in a changed voice: “I am, as + you know, a republican, son of a Liberator,” he declared. “My incomparable + mother, God rest her soul, was a Frenchwoman, the daughter of an ardent + republican. As a boy I fought for liberty; I’ve always believed in the + equality of men; and as to their brotherhood, that, to my mind, is even + more certain. Look at the fierce animosity they display in their + differences. And what in the world do you know that is more bitterly + fierce than brothers’ quarrels?” + </p> + <p> + All absence of cynicism checked an inclination to smile at this view of + human brotherhood. On the contrary, there was in the tone the melancholy + natural to a man profoundly humane at heart who from duty, from + conviction, and from necessity, had played his part in scenes of ruthless + violence. + </p> + <p> + The General had seen much of fratricidal strife. “Certainly. There is no + doubt of their brotherhood,” he insisted. “All men are brothers, and as + such know almost too much of each other. But”—and here in the old + patriarchal head, white as silver, the black eyes humorously twinkled—“if + we are all brothers, all the women are not our sisters.” + </p> + <p> + One of the younger guests was heard murmuring his satisfaction at the + fact. But the General continued, with deliberate earnestness: “They are so + different! The tale of a king who took a beggar-maid for a partner of his + throne may be pretty enough as we men look upon ourselves and upon love. + But that a young girl, famous for her haughty beauty and, only a short + time before, the admired of all at the balls in the Viceroy’s palace, + should take by the hand a guasso, a common peasant, is intolerable to our + sentiment of women and their love. It is madness. Nevertheless it + happened. But it must be said that in her case it was the madness of hate—not + of love.” + </p> + <p> + After presenting this excuse in a spirit of chivalrous justice, the + General remained silent for a time. “I rode past the house every day + almost,” he began again, “and this was what was going on within. But how + it was going on no mind of man can conceive. Her desperation must have + been extreme, and Gaspar Ruiz was a docile fellow. He had been an obedient + soldier. His strength was like an enormous stone lying on the ground, + ready to be hurled this way or that by the hand that picks it up. + </p> + <p> + “It is clear that he would tell his story to the people who gave him the + shelter he needed. And he needed assistance badly. His wound was not + dangerous, but his life was forfeited. The old Royalist being wrapped up + in his laughing madness, the two women arranged a hiding-place for the + wounded man in one of the huts amongst the fruit trees at the back of the + house. That hovel, an abundance of clear water while the fever was on him, + and some words of pity were all they could give. I suppose he had a share + of what food there was. And it would be but little: a handful of roasted + corn, perhaps a dish of beans, or a piece of bread with a few figs. To + such misery were those proud and once wealthy people reduced.” + </p> + <p> + VII + </p> + <p> + General Santierra was right in his surmise. Such was the exact nature of + the assistance which Gaspar Ruiz, peasant son of peasants, received from + the Royalist family whose daughter had opened the door of their miserable + refuge to his extreme distress. Her sombre resolution ruled the madness of + her father and the trembling bewilderment of her mother. + </p> + <p> + She had asked the strange man on the doorstep, “Who wounded you?” + </p> + <p> + “The soldiers, senora,” Gaspar Ruiz had answered, in a faint voice. + </p> + <p> + “Patriots?” + </p> + <p> + “Si.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Deserter,” he gasped, leaning against the wall under the scrutiny of her + black eyes. “I was left for dead over there.” + </p> + <p> + She led him through the house out to a small hut of clay and reeds, lost + in the long grass of the overgrown orchard. He sank on a heap of maize + straw in a corner, and sighed profoundly. + </p> + <p> + “No one will look for you here,” she said, looking down at him. “Nobody + comes near us. We, too, have been left for dead—here.” + </p> + <p> + He stirred uneasily on his heap of dirty straw, and the pain in his neck + made him groan deliriously. + </p> + <p> + “I shall show Estaban some day that I am alive yet,” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + He accepted her assistance in silence, and the many days of pain went by. + Her appearances in the hut brought him relief and became connected with + the feverish dreams of angels which visited his couch; for Gaspar Ruiz was + instructed in the mysteries of his religion, and had even been taught to + read and write a little by the priest of his village. He waited for her + with impatience, and saw her pass out of the dark hut and disappear in the + brilliant sunshine with poignant regret. He discovered that, while he lay + there feeling so very weak, he could, by closing his eyes, evoke her face + with considerable distinctness. And this discovered faculty charmed the + long, solitary hours of his convalescence. Later on, when he began to + regain his strength, he would creep at dusk from his hut to the house and + sit on the step of the garden door. + </p> + <p> + In one of the rooms the mad father paced to and fro, muttering to himself + with short, abrupt laughs. In the passage, sitting on a stool, the mother + sighed and moaned. The daughter, in rough threadbare clothing, and her + white haggard face half hidden by a coarse manta, stood leaning against + the side of the door. Gaspar Ruiz, with his elbows propped on his knees + and his head resting in his hands, talked to the two women in an + undertone. + </p> + <p> + The common misery of destitution would have made a bitter mockery of a + marked insistence on social differences. Gaspar Ruiz understood this in + his simplicity. From his captivity amongst the Royalists he could give + them news of people they knew. He described their appearance; and when he + related the story of the battle in which he was recaptured the two women + lamented the blow to their cause and the ruin of their secret hopes. + </p> + <p> + He had no feeling either way. But he felt a great devotion for that young + girl. In his desire to appear worthy of her condescension, he boasted a + little of his bodily strength. He had nothing else to boast of. Because of + that quality his comrades treated him with as great a deference, he + explained, as though he had been a sergeant, both in camp and in battle. + </p> + <p> + “I could always get as many as I wanted to follow me anywhere, senorita. I + ought to have been made an officer, because I can read and write.” + </p> + <p> + Behind him the silent old lady fetched a moaning sigh from time to time; + the distracted father muttered to himself, pacing the sala; and Gaspar + Ruiz would raise his eyes now and then to look at the daughter of these + people. + </p> + <p> + He would look at her with curiosity because she was alive, and also with + that feeling of familiarity and awe with which he had contemplated in + churches the inanimate and powerful statues of the saints, whose + protection is invoked in dangers and difficulties. His difficulty was very + great. + </p> + <p> + He could not remain hiding in an orchard for ever and ever. He knew also + very well that before he had gone half a day’s journey in any direction, + he would be picked up by one of the cavalry patrols scouring the country, + and brought into one or another of the camps where the patriot army + destined for the liberation of Peru was collected. There he would in the + end be recognized as Gaspar Ruiz—the deserter to the Royalists—and + no doubt shot very effectually this time. There did not seem any place in + the world for the innocent Gaspar Ruiz anywhere. And at this thought his + simple soul surrendered itself to gloom and resentment as black as night. + </p> + <p> + They had made him a soldier forcibly. He did not mind being a soldier. And + he had been a good soldier as he had been a good son, because of his + docility and his strength. But now there was no use for either. They had + taken him from his parents, and he could no longer be a soldier—not + a good soldier at any rate. Nobody would listen to his explanations. What + injustice it was! What injustice! + </p> + <p> + And in a mournful murmur he would go over the story of his capture and + recapture for the twentieth time. Then, raising his eyes to the silent + girl in the doorway, “Si, senorita,” he would say with a deep sigh, + “injustice has made this poor breath in my body quite worthless to me and + to anybody else. And I do not care who robs me of it.” + </p> + <p> + One evening, as he exhaled thus the plaint of his wounded soul, she + condescended to say that, if she were a man, she would consider no life + worthless which held the possibility of revenge. + </p> + <p> + She seemed to be speaking to herself. Her voice was low. He drank in the + gentle, as if dreamy sound with a consciousness of peculiar delight of + something warming his breast like a draught of generous wine. + </p> + <p> + “True, Senorita,” he said, raising his face up to hers slowly: “there is + Estaban, who must be shown that I am not dead after all.” + </p> + <p> + The mutterings of the mad father had ceased long before; the sighing + mother had withdrawn somewhere into one of the empty rooms. All was still + within as well as without, in the moonlight bright as day on the wild + orchard full of inky shadows. Gaspar Ruiz saw the dark eyes of Dona + Erminia look down at him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! The sergeant,” she muttered, disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why! He has wounded me with his sword,” he protested, bewildered by the + contempt that seemed to shine livid on her pale face. + </p> + <p> + She crushed him with her glance. The power of her will to be understood + was so strong that it kindled in him the intelligence of unexpressed + things. + </p> + <p> + “What else did you expect me to do?” he cried, as if suddenly driven to + despair. “Have I the power to do more? Am I a general with an army at my + back?—miserable sinner that I am to be despised by you at last.” + </p> + <p> + VIII + </p> + <p> + “Senores,” related the General to his guests, “though my thoughts were of + love then, and therefore enchanting, the sight of that house always + affected me disagreeably, especially in the moonlight, when its close + shutters and its air of lonely neglect appeared sinister. Still I went on + using the bridle-path by the ravine, because it was a short cut. The mad + Royalist howled and laughed at me every evening to his complete + satisfaction; but after a time, as if wearied with my indifference, he + ceased to appear in the porch. How they persuaded him to leave off I do + not know. However, with Gaspar Ruiz in the house there would have been no + difficulty in restraining him by force. It was now part of their policy in + there to avoid anything which could provoke me. At least, so I suppose. + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding my infatuation with the brightest pair of eyes in Chile, + I noticed the absence of the old man after a week or so. A few more days + passed. I began to think that perhaps these Royalists had gone away + somewhere else. But one evening, as I was hastening towards the city, I + saw again somebody in the porch. It was not the madman; it was the girl. + She stood holding on to one of the wooden columns, tall and white-faced, + her big eyes sunk deep with privation and sorrow. I looked hard at her, + and she met my stare with a strange, inquisitive look. Then, as I turned + my head after riding past, she seemed to gather courage for the act, and + absolutely beckoned me back. + </p> + <p> + “I obeyed, senores, almost without thinking, so great was my astonishment. + It was greater still when I heard what she had to say. She began by + thanking me for my forbearance of her father’s infirmity, so that I felt + ashamed of myself. I had meant to show disdain, not forbearance! Every + word must have burnt her lips, but she never departed from a gentle and + melancholy dignity which filled me with respect against my will. Senores, + we are no match for women. But I could hardly believe my ears when she + began her tale. Providence, she concluded, seemed to have preserved the + life of that wronged soldier, who now trusted to my honour as a caballero + and to my compassion for his sufferings. + </p> + <p> + “‘Wronged man,’ I observed, coldly. ‘Well, I think so, too: and you have + been harbouring an enemy of your cause.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He was a poor Christian crying for help at our door in the name of God, + senor,’ she answered, simply. + </p> + <p> + “I began to admire her. ‘Where is he now?’ I asked, stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “But she would not answer that question. With extreme cunning, and an + almost fiendish delicacy, she managed to remind me of my failure in saving + the lives of the prisoners in the guardroom, without wounding my pride. + She knew, of course, the whole story. Gaspar Ruiz, she said, entreated me + to procure for him a safe-conduct from General San Martin himself. He had + an important communication to make to the commander-in-chief. + </p> + <p> + “Por Dios, senores, she made me swallow all that, pretending to be only + the mouthpiece of that poor man. Overcome by injustice, he expected to + find, she said, as much generosity in me as had been shown to him by the + Royalist family which had given him a refuge. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! It was well and nobly said to a youngster like me. I thought her + great. Alas! she was only implacable. + </p> + <p> + “In the end I rode away very enthusiastic about the business, without + demanding even to see Gaspar Ruiz, who I was confident was in the house. + </p> + <p> + “But on calm reflection I began to see some difficulties which I had not + confidence enough in myself to encounter. It was not easy to approach a + commander-in-chief with such a story. I feared failure. At last I thought + it better to lay the matter before my general-of-division, Robles, a + friend of my family, who had appointed me his aide-de-camp lately. + </p> + <p> + “He took it out of my hands at once without any ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “‘In the house! of course he is in the house,’ he said contemptuously. + ‘You ought to have gone sword in hand inside and demanded his surrender, + instead of chatting with a Royalist girl in the porch. Those people should + have been hunted out of that long ago. Who knows how many spies they have + harboured right in the very midst of our camps? A safe-conduct from the + Commander-in-Chief! The audacity of the fellow! Ha! ha! Now we shall catch + him to-night, and then we shall find out, without any safe-conduct, what + he has got to say, that is so very important. Ha! ha! ha!’ + </p> + <p> + “General Robles, peace to his soul, was a short, thick man, with round, + staring eyes, fierce and jovial. Seeing my distress he added: + </p> + <p> + “‘Come, come, chico. I promise you his life if he does not resist. And + that is not likely. We are not going to break up a good soldier if it can + be helped. I tell you what! I am curious to see your strong man. Nothing + but a general will do for the picaro—well, he shall have a general + to talk to. Ha! ha! I shall go myself to the catching, and you are coming + with me, of course.’ + </p> + <p> + “And it was done that same night. Early in the evening the house and the + orchard were surrounded quietly. Later on the General and I left a ball we + were attending in town and rode out at an easy gallop. At some little + distance from the house we pulled up. A mounted orderly held our horses. A + low whistle warned the men watching all along the ravine, and we walked up + to the porch softly. The barricaded house in the moonlight seemed empty. + </p> + <p> + “The General knocked at the door. After a time a woman’s voice within + asked who was there. My chief nudged me hard. I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is I, Lieutenant Santierra,’ I stammered out, as if choked. ‘Open the + door.’ + </p> + <p> + “It came open slowly. The girl, holding a thin taper in her hand, seeing + another man with me, began to back away before us slowly, shading the + light with her hand. Her impassive white face looked ghostly. I followed + behind General Robles. Her eyes were fixed on mine. I made a gesture of + helplessness behind my chief’s back, trying at the same time to give a + reassuring expression to my face. None of us three uttered a sound. + </p> + <p> + “We found ourselves in a room with bare floor and walls. There was a rough + table and a couple of stools in it, nothing else whatever. An old woman + with her grey hair hanging loose wrung her hands when we appeared. A peal + of loud laughter resounded through the empty house, very amazing and + weird. At this the old woman tried to get past us. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nobody to leave the room,’ said General Robles to me. + </p> + <p> + “I swung the door to, heard the latch click, and the laughter became faint + in our ears. + </p> + <p> + “Before another word could be spoken in that room I was amazed by hearing + the sound of distant thunder. + </p> + <p> + “I had carried in with me into the house a vivid impression of a beautiful + clear moonlight night, without a speck of cloud in the sky. I could not + believe my ears. Sent early abroad for my education, I was not familiar + with the most dreaded natural phenomenon of my native land. I saw, with + inexpressible astonishment, a look of terror in my chief’s eyes. Suddenly + I felt giddy. The General staggered against me heavily; the girl seemed to + reel in the middle of the room, the taper fell out of her hand and the + light went out; a shrill cry of ‘Misericordia!’ from the old woman pierced + my ears. In the pitchy darkness I heard the plaster off the walls falling + on the floor. It is a mercy there was no ceiling. Holding on to the latch + of the door, I heard the grinding of the roof-tiles cease above my head. + The shock was over. + </p> + <p> + “‘Out of the house! The door! Fly, Santierra, fly!’ howled the General. + You know, senores, in our country the bravest are not ashamed of the fear + an earthquake strikes into all the senses of man. One never gets used to + it. Repeated experience only augments the mastery of that nameless terror. + </p> + <p> + “It was my first earthquake, and I was the calmest of them all. I + understood that the crash outside was caused by the porch, with its wooden + pillars and tiled roof projection, falling down. The next shock would + destroy the house, maybe. That rumble as of thunder was approaching again. + The General was rushing round the room, to find the door perhaps. He made + a noise as though he were trying to climb the walls, and I heard him + distinctly invoke the names of several saints. ‘Out, out, Santierra!’ he + yelled. + </p> + <p> + “The girl’s voice was the only one I did not hear. + </p> + <p> + “‘General,’ I cried, I cannot move the door. We must be locked in.’ + </p> + <p> + “I did not recognize his voice in the shout of malediction and despair he + let out. Senores, I know many men in my country, especially in the + provinces most subject to earthquakes, who will neither eat, sleep, pray, + nor even sit down to cards with closed doors. The danger is not in the + loss of time, but in this—that the movement of the walls may prevent + a door being opened at all. This was what had happened to us. We were + trapped, and we had no help to expect from anybody. There is no man in my + country who will go into a house when the earth trembles. There never was—except + one: Gaspar Ruiz. + </p> + <p> + “He had come out of whatever hole he had been hiding in outside, and had + clambered over the timbers of the destroyed porch. Above the awful + subterranean groan of coming destruction I heard a mighty voice shouting + the word ‘Erminia!’ with the lungs of a giant. An earthquake is a great + leveller of distinctions. I collected all my resolution against the terror + of the scene. ‘She is here,’ I shouted back. A roar as of a furious wild + beast answered me—while my head swam, my heart sank, and the sweat + of anguish streamed like rain off my brow. + </p> + <p> + “He had the strength to pick up one of the heavy posts of the porch. + Holding it under his armpit like a lance, but with both hands, he charged + madly the rocking house with the force of a battering-ram, bursting open + the door and rushing in, headlong, over our prostrate bodies. I and the + General picking ourselves up, bolted out together, without looking round + once till we got across the road. Then, clinging to each other, we beheld + the house change suddenly into a heap of formless rubbish behind the back + of a man, who staggered towards us bearing the form of a woman clasped in + his arms. Her long black hair hung nearly to his feet. He laid her down + reverently on the heaving earth, and the moonlight shone on her closed + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Senores, we mounted with difficulty. Our horses getting up plunged madly, + held by the soldiers who had come running from all sides. Nobody thought + of catching Gaspar Ruiz then. The eyes of men and animals shone with wild + fear. My general approached Gaspar Ruiz, who stood motionless as a statue + above the girl. He let himself be shaken by the shoulder without detaching + his eyes from her face. + </p> + <p> + “‘Que guape!’ shouted the General in his ear. ‘You are the bravest man + living. You have saved my life. I am General Robles. Come to my quarters + to-morrow if God gives us the grace to see another day.’ + </p> + <p> + “He never stirred—as if deaf, without feeling, insensible. + </p> + <p> + “We rode away for the town, full of our relations, of our friends, of + whose fate we hardly dared to think. The soldiers ran by the side of our + horses. Everything was forgotten in the immensity of the catastrophe + overtaking a whole country.” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Gaspar Ruiz saw the girl open her eyes. The raising of her eyelids seemed + to recall him from a trance. They were alone; the cries of terror and + distress from homeless people filled the plains of the coast remote and + immense, coming like a whisper into their loneliness. + </p> + <p> + She rose swiftly to her feet, darting fearful glances on all sides. “What + is it?” she cried out low, and peering into his face. “Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head sadly, without a word. + </p> + <p> + “. . . Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + He knelt down slowly before her, and touched the hem of her coarse black + baize skirt. “Your slave,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She caught sight then of the heap of rubbish that had been the house, all + misty in the cloud of dust. “Ah!” she cried, pressing her hand to her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I carried you out from there,” he whispered at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “And they?” she asked in a great sob. + </p> + <p> + He rose, and taking her by the arms, led her gently towards the shapeless + ruin half overwhelmed by a landslide. “Come and listen,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The serene moon saw them clambering over that heap of stones, joists and + tiles, which was a grave. They pressed their ears to the interstices, + listening for the sound of a groan, for a sigh of pain. + </p> + <p> + At last he said, “They died swiftly. You are alone.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down on a piece of broken timber and put one arm across her face. + He waited—then approaching his lips to her ear: “Let us go,” he + whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Never—never from here,” she cried out, flinging her arms above her + head. + </p> + <p> + He stooped over her, and her raised arms fell upon his shoulders. He + lifted her up, steadied himself and began to walk, looking straight before + him. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” she asked, feebly. + </p> + <p> + “I am escaping from my enemies,” he said, never once glancing at his light + burden. + </p> + <p> + “With me?” she sighed, helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Never without you,” he said. “You are my strength.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed her close to him. His face was grave and his footsteps steady. + The conflagrations bursting out in the ruins of destroyed villages dotted + the plain with red fires; and the sounds of distant lamentations, the + cries of Misericordia! Misericordia! made a desolate murmur in his ears. + He walked on, solemn and collected, as if carrying something holy, + fragile, and precious. + </p> + <p> + The earth rocked at times under his feet. + </p> + <p> + IX + </p> + <p> + With movements of mechanical care and an air of abstraction old General + Santierra lighted a long and thick cigar. + </p> + <p> + “It was a good many hours before we could send a party back to the + ravine,” he said to his guests. “We had found one-third of the town laid + low, the rest shaken up; and the inhabitants, rich and poor, reduced to + the same state of distraction by the universal disaster. The affected + cheerfulness of some contrasted with the despair of others. In the general + confusion a number of reckless thieves, without fear of God or man, became + a danger to those who from the downfall of their homes had managed to save + some valuables. Crying ‘Misericordia’ louder than any at every tremor, and + beating their breast with one hand, these scoundrels robbed the poor + victims with the other, not even stopping short of murder. + </p> + <p> + “General Robles’ division was occupied entirely in guarding the destroyed + quarters of the town from the depredations of these inhuman monsters. + Taken up with my duties of orderly officer, it was only in the morning + that I could assure myself of the safety of my own family. My mother and + my sisters had escaped with their lives from that ballroom, where I had + left them early in the evening. I remember those two beautiful young women—God + rest their souls—as if I saw them this moment, in the garden of our + destroyed house, pale but active, assisting some of our poor neighbours, + in their soiled ball-dresses and with the dust of fallen walls on their + hair. As to my mother, she had a stoical soul in her frail body. + Half-covered by a costly shawl, she was lying on a rustic seat by the side + of an ornamental basin whose fountain had ceased to play for ever on that + night. + </p> + <p> + “I had hardly had time to embrace them all with transports of joy when my + chief, coming along, dispatched me to the ravine with a few soldiers, to + bring in my strong man, as he called him, and that pale girl. + </p> + <p> + “But there was no one for us to bring in. A landslide had covered the + ruins of the house; and it was like a large mound of earth with only the + ends of some timbers visible here and there—nothing more. + </p> + <p> + “Thus were the tribulations of the old Royalist couple ended. An enormous + and unconsecrated grave had swallowed them up alive, in their unhappy + obstinacy against the will of a people to be free. And their daughter was + gone. + </p> + <p> + “That Gaspar Ruiz had carried her off I understood very well. But as the + case was not foreseen, I had no instructions to pursue them. And certainly + I had no desire to do so. I had grown mistrustful of my interference. It + had never been successful, and had not even appeared creditable. He was + gone. Well, let him go. And he had carried off the Royalist girl! Nothing + better. Vaya con Dios. This was not the time to bother about a deserter + who, justly or unjustly, ought to have been dead, and a girl for whom it + would have been better to have never been born. + </p> + <p> + “So I marched my men back to the town. + </p> + <p> + “After a few days, order having been re-established, all the principal + families, including my own, left for Santiago. We had a fine house there. + At the same time the division of Robles was moved to new cantonments near + the capital. This change suited very well the state of my domestic and + amorous feelings. + </p> + <p> + “One night, rather late, I was called to my chief. I found General Robles + in his quarters, at ease, with his uniform off, drinking neat brandy out + of a tumbler—as a precaution, he used to say, against the + sleeplessness induced by the bites of mosquitoes. He was a good soldier, + and he taught me the art and practice of war. No doubt God has been + merciful to his soul; for his motives were never other than patriotic, if + his character was irascible. As to the use of mosquito nets, he considered + it effeminate, shameful—unworthy of a soldier. I noticed at the + first glance that his face, already very red, wore an expression of high + good-humour. + </p> + <p> + “‘Aha! Senor teniente,’ he cried, loudly, as I saluted at the door. + ‘Behold! Your strong man has turned up again.’ + </p> + <p> + “He extended to me a folded letter, which I saw was superscribed ‘To the + Commander-in-Chief of the Republican Armies.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘This,’ General Robles went on in his loud voice, ‘was thrust by a boy + into the hand of a sentry at the Quartel General, while the fellow stood + there thinking of his girl, no doubt—for before he could gather his + wits together the boy had disappeared amongst the market people, and he + protests he could not recognize him to save his life.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘My chief told me further that the soldier had given the letter to the + sergeant of the guard, and that ultimately it had reached the hands of our + generalissimo. His Excellency had deigned to take cognizance of it with + his own eyes. After that he had referred the matter in confidence to + General Robles. + </p> + <p> + “The letter, senores, I cannot now recollect textually. I saw the + signature of Gaspar Ruiz. He was an audacious fellow. He had snatched a + soul for himself out of a cataclysm, remember. And now it was that soul + which had dictated the terms of his letter. Its tone was very independent. + I remember it struck me at the time as noble—dignified. It was, no + doubt, her letter. Now I shudder at the depth of its duplicity. Gaspar + Ruiz was made to complain of the injustice of which he had been a victim. + He invoked his previous record of fidelity and courage. Having been saved + from death by the miraculous interposition of Providence, he could think + of nothing but of retrieving his character. This, he wrote, he could not + hope to do in the ranks as a discredited soldier still under suspicion. He + had the means to give a striking proof of his fidelity. He had ended by + proposing to the General-in-Chief a meeting at midnight in the middle of + the Plaza before the Moneta. The signal would be to strike fire with flint + and steel three times, which was not too conspicuous and yet distinctive + enough for recognition. + </p> + <p> + “San Martin, the great Liberator, loved men of audacity and courage. + Besides, he was just and compassionate. I told him as much of the man’s + story as I knew, and was ordered to accompany him on the appointed night. + The signals were duly exchanged. It was midnight, and the whole town was + dark and silent. Their two cloaked figures came together in the centre of + the vast Plaza, and, keeping discreetly at a distance, I listened for an + hour or more to the murmur of their voices. Then the General motioned me + to approach; and as I did so I heard San Martin, who was courteous to + gentle and simple alike, offer Gaspar Ruiz the hospitality of the + headquarters for the night. But the soldier refused, saying that he would + be not worthy of that honour till he had done something. + </p> + <p> + “‘You cannot have a common deserter for your guest, Excellency,’ he + protested with a low laugh, and stepping backwards merged slowly into the + night. + </p> + <p> + “The Commander-in-Chief observed to me, as we turned away: ‘He had + somebody with him, our friend Ruiz. I saw two figures for a moment. It was + an unobtrusive companion.’ + </p> + <p> + “I, too, had observed another figure join the vanishing form of Gaspar + Ruiz. It had the appearance of a short fellow in a poncho and a big hat. + And I wondered stupidly who it could be he had dared take into his + confidence. I might have guessed it could be no one but that fatal girl—alas! + </p> + <p> + “Where he kept her concealed I do not know. He had—it was known + afterwards—an uncle, his mother’s brother, a small shopkeeper in + Santiago. Perhaps it was there that she found a roof and food. Whatever + she found, it was poor enough to exasperate her pride and keep up her + anger and hate. It is certain she did not accompany him on the feat he + undertook to accomplish first of all. It was nothing less than the + destruction of a store of war material collected secretly by the Spanish + authorities in the south, in a town called Linares. Gaspar Ruiz was + entrusted with a small party only, but they proved themselves worthy of + San Martin’s confidence. The season was not propitious. They had to swim + swollen rivers. They seemed, however, to have galloped night and day + out-riding the news of their foray, and holding straight for the town, a + hundred miles into the enemy’s country, till at break of day they rode + into it sword in hand, surprising the little garrison. It fled without + making a stand, leaving most of its officers in Gaspar Ruiz’ hands. + </p> + <p> + “A great explosion of gunpowder ended the conflagration of the magazines + the raiders had set on fire without loss of time. In less than six hours + they were riding away at the same mad speed, without the loss of a single + man. Good as they were, such an exploit is not performed without a still + better leadership. + </p> + <p> + “I was dining at the headquarters when Gaspar Ruiz himself brought the + news of his success. And it was a great blow to the Royalist troops. For a + proof he displayed to us the garrison’s flag. He took it from under his + poncho and flung it on the table. The man was transfigured; there was + something exulting and menacing in the expression of his face. He stood + behind General San Martin’s chair and looked proudly at us all. He had a + round blue cap edged with silver braid on his head, and we all could see a + large white scar on the nape of his sunburnt neck. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody asked him what he had done with the captured Spanish officers. + </p> + <p> + “He shrugged his shoulders scornfully. ‘What a question to ask! In a + partisan war you do not burden yourself with prisoners. I let them go—and + here are their sword-knots.’ + </p> + <p> + “He flung a bunch of them on the table upon the flag. Then General Robles, + whom I was attending there, spoke up in his loud, thick voice: ‘You did! + Then, my brave friend, you do not know yet how a war like ours ought to be + conducted. You should have done—this.’ And he passed the edge of his + hand across his own throat. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, senores! It was only too true that on both sides this contest, in + its nature so heroic, was stained by ferocity. The murmurs that arose at + General Robles’ words were by no means unanimous in tone. But the generous + and brave San Martin praised the humane action, and pointed out to Ruiz a + place on his right hand. Then rising with a full glass he proposed a + toast: ‘Caballeros and comrades-in-arms, let us drink the health of + Captain Gaspar Ruiz.’ And when we had emptied our glasses: ‘I intend,’ the + Commander-in-Chief continued, ‘to entrust him with the guardianship of our + southern frontier, while we go afar to liberate our brethren in Peru. He + whom the enemy could not stop from striking a blow at his very heart will + know how to protect the peaceful populations we leave behind us to pursue + our sacred task.’ And he embraced the silent Gaspar Ruiz by his side. + </p> + <p> + “Later on, when we all rose from table, I approached the latest officer of + the army with my congratulations. ‘And, Captain Ruiz,’ I added, ‘perhaps + you do not mind telling a man who has always believed in the uprightness + of your character what became of Dona Erminia on that night?’ + </p> + <p> + “At this friendly question his aspect changed. He looked at me from under + his eyebrows with the heavy, dull glance of a guasso—of a peasant. + ‘Senor teniente,’ he said, thickly, and as if very much cast down, ‘do not + ask me about the senorita, for I prefer not to think about her at all when + I am amongst you.” + </p> + <p> + “He looked, with a frown, all about the room, full of smoking and talking + officers. Of course I did not insist. + </p> + <p> + “These, senores, were the last words I was to hear him utter for a long, + long time. The very next day we embarked for our arduous expedition to + Peru, and we only heard of Gaspar Ruiz’ doings in the midst of battles of + our own. He had been appointed military guardian of our southern province. + He raised a partida. But his leniency to the conquered foe displeased the + Civil Governor, who was a formal, uneasy man, full of suspicions. He + forwarded reports against Gaspar Ruiz to the Supreme Government; one of + them being that he had married publicly, with great pomp, a woman of + Royalist tendencies. Quarrels were sure to arise between these two men of + very different character. At last the Civil Governor began to complain of + his inactivity and to hint at treachery, which, he wrote, would be not + surprising in a man of such antecedents. Gaspar Ruiz heard of it. His rage + flamed up, and the woman ever by his side knew how to feed it with + perfidious words. I do not know whether really the Supreme Government ever + did—as he complained afterwards—send orders for his arrest. It + seems certain that the Civil Governor began to tamper with his officers, + and that Gaspar Ruiz discovered the fact. + </p> + <p> + “One evening, when the Governor was giving a tertullia, Gaspar Ruiz, + followed by six men he could trust, appeared riding through the town to + the door of the Government House, and entered the sala armed, his hat on + his head. As the Governor, displeased, advanced to meet him, he seized the + wretched man round the body, carried him off from the midst of the + appalled guests, as though he were a child, and flung him down the outer + steps into the street. An angry hug from Gaspar Ruiz was enough to crush + the life out of a giant; but in addition Gaspar Ruiz’ horsemen fired their + pistols at the body of the Governor as it lay motionless at the bottom of + the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + X + </p> + <p> + “After this—as he called it—act of justice, Ruiz crossed the + Rio Blanco, followed by the greater part of his band, and entrenched + himself upon a hill. A company of regular troops sent out foolishly + against him was surrounded, and destroyed almost to a man. Other + expeditions, though better organized, were equally unsuccessful. + </p> + <p> + “It was during these sanguinary skirmishes that his wife first began to + appear on horseback at his right hand. Rendered proud and self-confident + by his successes, Ruiz no longer charged at the head of his partida, but + presumptuously, like a general directing the movements of an army, he + remained in the rear, well mounted and motionless on an eminence, sending + out his orders. She was seen repeatedly at his side, and for a long time + was mistaken for a man. There was much talk then of a mysterious + white-faced chief, to whom the defeats of our troops were ascribed. She + rode like an Indian woman, astride, wearing a broad-rimmed man’s hat and a + dark poncho. Afterwards, in the day of their greatest prosperity, this + poncho was embroidered in gold, and she wore then, also, the sword of poor + Don Antonio de Leyva. This veteran Chilian officer, having the misfortune + to be surrounded with his small force, and running short of ammunition, + found his death at the hands of the Arauco Indians, the allies and + auxiliaries of Gaspar Ruiz. This was the fatal affair long remembered + afterwards as the ‘Massacre of the Island.’ The sword of the unhappy + officer was presented to her by Peneleo, the Araucanian chief; for these + Indians, struck by her aspect, the deathly pallor of her face, which no + exposure to the weather seemed to affect, and her calm indifference under + fire, looked upon her as a supernatural being, or at least as a witch. By + this superstition the prestige and authority of Gaspar Ruiz amongst these + ignorant people were greatly augmented. She must have savoured her + vengeance to the full on that day when she buckled on the sword of Don + Antonio de Leyva. It never left her side, unless she put on her woman’s + clothes—not that she would or could ever use it, but she loved to + feel it beating upon her thigh as a perpetual reminder and symbol of the + dishonour to the arms of the Republic. She was insatiable. Moreover, on + the path she had led Gaspar Ruiz upon, there is no stopping. Escaped + prisoners—and they were not many—used to relate how with a few + whispered words she could change the expression of his face and revive his + flagging animosity. They told how after every skirmish, after every raid, + after every successful action, he would ride up to her and look into her + face. Its haughty calm was never relaxed. Her embrace, senores, must have + been as cold as the embrace of a statue. He tried to melt her icy heart in + a stream of warm blood. Some English naval officers who visited him at + that time noticed the strange character of his infatuation.” + </p> + <p> + At the movement of surprise and curiosity in his audience General + Santierra paused for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—English naval officers,” he repeated. “Ruiz had consented to + receive them to arrange for the liberation of some prisoners of your + nationality. In the territory upon which he ranged, from sea coast to the + Cordillera, there was a bay where the ships of that time, after rounding + Cape Horn, used to resort for wood and water. There, decoying the crew on + shore, he captured first the whaling brig Hersalia, and afterwards made + himself master by surprise of two more ships, one English and one + American. + </p> + <p> + “It was rumoured at the time that he dreamed of setting up a navy of his + own. But that, of course, was impossible. Still, manning the brig with + part of her own crew, and putting an officer and a good many men of his + own on board, he sent her off to the Spanish Governor of the island of + Chiloe with a report of his exploits, and a demand for assistance in the + war against the rebels. The Governor could not do much for him; but he + sent in return two light field-pieces, a letter of compliments, with a + colonel’s commission in the royal forces, and a great Spanish flag. This + standard with much ceremony was hoisted over his house in the heart of the + Arauco country. Surely on that day she may have smiled on her guasso + husband with a less haughty reserve. + </p> + <p> + “The senior officer of the English squadron on our coast made + representations to our Government as to these captures. But Gaspar Ruiz + refused to treat with us. Then an English frigate proceeded to the bay, + and her captain, doctor, and two lieutenants travelled inland under a + safe-conduct. They were well received, and spent three days as guests of + the partisan chief. A sort of military barbaric state was kept up at the + residence. It was furnished with the loot of frontier towns. When first + admitted to the principal sala, they saw his wife lying down (she was not + in good health then), with Gaspar Ruiz sitting at the foot of the couch. + His hat was lying on the floor, and his hands reposed on the hilt of his + sword. + </p> + <p> + “During that first conversation he never removed his big hands from the + sword-hilt, except once, to arrange the coverings about her, with gentle, + careful touches. They noticed that whenever she spoke he would fix his + eyes upon her in a kind of expectant, breathless attention, and seemingly + forget the existence of the world and his own existence, too. In the + course of the farewell banquet, at which she was present reclining on her + couch, he burst forth into complaints of the treatment he had received. + After General San Martin’s departure he had been beset by spies, slandered + by civil officials, his services ignored, his liberty and even his life + threatened by the Chilian Government. He got up from the table, thundered + execrations pacing the room wildly, then sat down on the couch at his + wife’s feet, his breast heaving, his eyes fixed on the floor. She reclined + on her back, her head on the cushions, her eyes nearly closed. + </p> + <p> + “‘And now I am an honoured Spanish officer,’ he added in a calm voice. + </p> + <p> + “The captain of the English frigate then took the opportunity to inform + him gently that Lima had fallen, and that by the terms of a convention the + Spaniards were withdrawing from the whole continent. + </p> + <p> + “Gaspar Ruiz raised his head, and without hesitation, speaking with + suppressed vehemence, declared that if not a single Spanish soldier were + left in the whole of South America he would persist in carrying on the + contest against Chile to the last drop of blood. When he finished that mad + tirade his wife’s long white hand was raised, and she just caressed his + knee with the tips of her fingers for a fraction of a second. + </p> + <p> + “For the rest of the officers’ stay, which did not extend for more than + half an hour after the banquet, that ferocious chieftain of a desperate + partida overflowed with amiability and kindness. He had been hospitable + before, but now it seemed as though he could not do enough for the comfort + and safety of his visitors’ journey back to their ship. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I have been told, could have presented a greater contrast to his + late violence or the habitual taciturn reserve of his manner. Like a man + elated beyond measure by an unexpected happiness, he overflowed with + good-will, amiability, and attentions. He embraced the officers like + brothers, almost with tears in his eyes. The released prisoners were + presented each with a piece of gold. At the last moment, suddenly, he + declared he could do no less than restore to the masters of the merchant + vessels all their private property. This unexpected generosity caused some + delay in the departure of the party, and their first march was very short. + </p> + <p> + “Late in the evening Gaspar Ruiz rode up with an escort, to their camp + fires, bringing along with him a mule loaded with cases of wine. He had + come, he said, to drink a stirrup cup with his English friends, whom he + would never see again. He was mellow and joyous in his temper. He told + stories of his own exploits, laughed like a boy, borrowed a guitar from + the Englishmen’s chief muleteer, and sitting cross-legged on his superfine + poncho spread before the glow of the embers, sang a guasso love-song in a + tender voice. Then his head dropped on his breast, his hands fell to the + ground; the guitar rolled off his knees—and a great hush fell over + the camp after the love-song of the implacable partisan who had made so + many of our people weep for destroyed homes and for loves cut short. + </p> + <p> + “Before anybody could make a sound he sprang up from the ground and called + for his horse. + </p> + <p> + “‘Adios, my friends!’ he cried. ‘Go with God. I love you. And tell them + well in Santiago that between Gaspar Ruiz, colonel of the King of Spain, + and the republican carrion-crows of Chile there is war to the last breath—war! + war! war!’ + </p> + <p> + “With a great yell of ‘War! war! war!’ which his escort took up, they rode + away, and the sound of hoofs and of voices died out in the distance + between the slopes of the hills. + </p> + <p> + “The two young English officers were convinced that Ruiz was mad. How do + you say that?—tile loose—eh? But the doctor, an observant + Scotsman with much shrewdness and philosophy in his character, told me + that it was a very curious case of possession. I met him many years + afterwards, but he remembered the experience very well. He told me, too, + that in his opinion that woman did not lead Gaspar Ruiz into the practice + of sanguinary treachery by direct persuasion, but by the subtle way of + awakening and keeping alive in his simple mind a burning sense of an + irreparable wrong. Maybe, maybe. But I would say that she poured half of + her vengeful soul into the strong clay of that man, as you may pour + intoxication, madness, poison into an empty cup. + </p> + <p> + “If he wanted war he got it in earnest when our victorious army began to + return from Peru. Systematic operations were planned against this blot on + the honour and prosperity of our hardly won independence. General Robles + commanded, with his well-known ruthless severity. Savage reprisals were + exercised on both sides and no quarter was given in the field. Having won + my promotion in the Peru campaign, I was a captain on the staff. Gaspar + Ruiz found himself hard pressed; at the same time we heard by means of a + fugitive priest who had been carried off from his village presbytery and + galloped eighty miles into the hills to perform the christening ceremony, + that a daughter was born to them. To celebrate the event, I suppose, Ruiz + executed one or two brilliant forays clear away at the rear of our forces, + and defeated the detachments sent out to cut off his retreat. General + Robles nearly had a stroke of apoplexy from rage. He found another cause + of insomnia than the bites of mosquitoes; but against this one, senores, + tumblers of raw brandy had no more effect than so much water. He took to + railing and storming at me about my strong man. And from our impatience to + end this inglorious campaign I am afraid that all we young officers became + reckless and apt to take undue risks on service. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, slowly, inch by inch as it were, our columns were closing + upon Gaspar Ruiz, though he had managed to raise all the Araucanian nation + of wild Indians against us. Then a year or more later our Government + became aware through its agents and spies that he had actually entered + into alliance with Carreras, the so-called dictator of the so-called + republic of Mendoza, on the other side of the mountains. Whether Gaspar + Ruiz had a deep political intention, or whether he wished only to secure a + safe retreat for his wife and child while he pursued remorselessly against + us his war of surprises and massacres, I cannot tell. The alliance, + however, was a fact. Defeated in his attempt to check our advance from the + sea, he retreated with his usual swiftness, and preparing for another hard + and hazardous tussle, began by sending his wife with the little girl + across the Pequena range of mountains, on the frontier of Mendoza.” + </p> + <p> + XI + </p> + <p> + “Now Carreras, under the guise of politics and liberalism, was a scoundrel + of the deepest dye, and the unhappy state of Mendoza was the prey of + thieves, robbers, traitors, and murderers, who formed his party. He was + under a noble exterior a man without heart, pity, honour, or conscience. + He aspired to nothing but tyranny, and though he would have made use of + Gaspar Ruiz for his nefarious designs, yet he soon became aware that to + propitiate the Chilian Government would answer his purpose better. I blush + to say that he made proposals to our Government to deliver up on certain + conditions the wife and child of the man who had trusted to his honour, + and that this offer was accepted. + </p> + <p> + “While on her way to Mendoza over the Pequena Pass she was betrayed by her + escort of Carreras’ men, and given up to the officer in command of a + Chilian fort on the upland at the foot of the main Cordillera range. This + atrocious transaction might have cost me dear, for as a matter of fact I + was a prisoner in Gaspar Ruiz’ camp when he received the news. I had been + captured during a reconnaissance, my escort of a few troopers being + speared by the Indians of his bodyguard. I was saved from the same fate + because he recognized my features just in time. No doubt my friends + thought I was dead, and I would not have given much for my life at any + time. But the strong man treated me very well, because, he said, I had + always believed in his innocence and had tried to serve him when he was a + victim of injustice. + </p> + <p> + “‘And now,’ was his speech to me, ‘you shall see that I always speak the + truth. You are safe.’ + </p> + <p> + “I did not think I was very safe when I was called up to go to him one + night. He paced up and down like a wild beast, exclaiming, ‘Betrayed! + Betrayed!’ + </p> + <p> + “He walked up to me clenching his fists. ‘I could cut your throat.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Will that give your wife back to you?’ I said as quietly as I could. + </p> + <p> + “‘And the child!’ he yelled out, as if mad. He fell into a chair and + laughed in a frightful, boisterous manner. ‘Oh, no, you are safe.’ + </p> + <p> + “I assured him that his wife’s life was safe, too; but I did not say what + I was convinced of—that he would never see her again. He wanted war + to the death, and the war could only end with his death. + </p> + <p> + “He gave me a strange, inexplicable look, and sat muttering blankly, ‘In + their hands. In their hands.’ + </p> + <p> + “I kept as still as a mouse before a cat. + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly he jumped up. ‘What am I doing here?’ he cried; and opening the + door, he yelled out orders to saddle and mount. ‘What is it?’ he + stammered, coming up to me. ‘The Pequena fort; a fort of palisades! + Nothing. I would get her back if she were hidden in the very heart of the + mountain.’ He amazed me by adding, with an effort: ‘I carried her off in + my two arms while the earth trembled. And the child at least is mine. She + at least is mine!’ + </p> + <p> + “Those were bizarre words; but I had no time for wonder. + </p> + <p> + “‘You shall go with me,’ he said, violently. ‘I may want to parley, and + any other messenger from Ruiz, the outlaw, would have his throat cut.’ + </p> + <p> + “This was true enough. Between him and the rest of incensed mankind there + could be no communication, according to the customs of honourable warfare. + </p> + <p> + “In less than half an hour we were in the saddle, flying wildly through + the night. He had only an escort of twenty men at his quarters, but would + not wait for more. He sent, however, messengers to Peneleo, the Indian + chief then ranging in the foothills, directing him to bring his warriors + to the uplands and meet him at the lake called the Eye of Water, near + whose shores the frontier fort of Pequena was built. + </p> + <p> + “We crossed the lowlands with that untired rapidity of movement which had + made Gaspar Ruiz’ raids so famous. We followed the lower valleys up to + their precipitous heads. The ride was not without its dangers. A cornice + road on a perpendicular wall of basalt wound itself around a buttressing + rock, and at last we emerged from the gloom of a deep gorge upon the + upland of Pequena. + </p> + <p> + “It was a plain of green wiry grass and thin flowering bushes; but high + above our heads patches of snow hung in the folds and crevices of the + great walls of rock. The little lake was as round as a staring eye. The + garrison of the fort were just driving in their small herd of cattle when + we appeared. Then the great wooden gates swung to, and that four-square + enclosure of broad blackened stakes pointed at the top and barely hiding + the grass roofs of the huts inside seemed deserted, empty, without a + single soul. + </p> + <p> + “But when summoned to surrender, by a man who at Gaspar Ruiz’ order rode + fearlessly forward those inside answered by a volley which rolled him and + his horse over. I heard Ruiz by my side grind his teeth. ‘It does not + matter,’ he said. ‘Now you go.’ + </p> + <p> + “Torn and faded as its rags were, the vestiges of my uniform were + recognized, and I was allowed to approach within speaking distance; and + then I had to wait, because a voice clamouring through a loophole with joy + and astonishment would not allow me to place a word. It was the voice of + Major Pajol, an old friend. He, like my other comrades, had thought me + killed a long time ago. + </p> + <p> + “‘Put spurs to your horse, man!’ he yelled, in the greatest excitement; + ‘we will swing the gate open for you.’ + </p> + <p> + “I let the reins fall out of my hand and shook my head. ‘I am on my + honour,’ I cried. + </p> + <p> + “‘To him!’ he shouted, with infinite disgust. + </p> + <p> + “‘He promises you your life.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Our life is our own. And do you, Santierra, advise us to surrender to + that rastrero?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No!’ I shouted. ‘But he wants his wife and child, and he can cut you off + from water.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then she would be the first to suffer. You may tell him that. Look here—this + is all nonsense: we shall dash out and capture you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You shall not catch me alive,’ I said, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Imbecile!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘For God’s sake,’ I continued, hastily, ‘do not open the gate.’ And I + pointed at the multitude of Peneleo’s Indians who covered the shores of + the lake. + </p> + <p> + “I had never seen so many of these savages together. Their lances seemed + as numerous as stalks of grass. Their hoarse voices made a vast, + inarticulate sound like the murmur of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “My friend Pajol was swearing to himself. ‘Well, then—go to the + devil!’ he shouted, exasperated. But as I swung round he repented, for I + heard him say hurriedly, ‘Shoot the fool’s horse before he gets away.’ + </p> + <p> + “He had good marksmen. Two shots rang out, and in the very act of turning + my horse staggered, fell and lay still as if struck by lightning. I had my + feet out of the stirrups and rolled clear of him; but I did not attempt to + rise. Neither dared they rush out to drag me in. + </p> + <p> + “The masses of Indians had begun to move upon the fort. They rode up in + squadrons, trailing their long chusos; then dismounted out of musket-shot, + and, throwing off their fur mantles, advanced naked to the attack, + stamping their feet and shouting in cadence. A sheet of flame ran three + times along the face of the fort without checking their steady march. They + crowded right up to the very stakes, flourishing their broad knives. But + this palisade was not fastened together with hide lashings in the usual + way, but with long iron nails, which they could not cut. Dismayed at the + failure of their usual method of forcing an entrance, the heathen, who had + marched so steadily against the musketry fire, broke and fled under the + volleys of the besieged. + </p> + <p> + “Directly they had passed me on their advance I got up and rejoined Gaspar + Ruiz on a low ridge which jutted out upon the plain. The musketry of his + own men had covered the attack, but now at a sign from him a trumpet + sounded the ‘Cease fire.’ Together we looked in silence at the hopeless + rout of the savages. + </p> + <p> + “‘It must be a siege, then,’ he muttered. And I detected him wringing his + hands stealthily. + </p> + <p> + “But what sort of siege could it be? Without any need for me to repeat my + friend Pajol’s message, he dared not cut the water off from the besieged. + They had plenty of meat. And, indeed, if they had been short he would have + been too anxious to send food into the stockade had he been able. But, as + a matter of fact, it was we on the plain who were beginning to feel the + pinch of hunger. + </p> + <p> + “Peneleo, the Indian chief, sat by our fire folded in his ample mantle of + guanaco skins. He was an athletic savage, with an enormous square shock + head of hair resembling a straw beehive in shape and size, and with grave, + surly, much-lined features. In his broken Spanish he repeated, growling + like a bad-tempered wild beast, that if an opening ever so small were made + in the stockade his men would march in and get the senora—not + otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “Gaspar Ruiz, sitting opposite him, kept his eyes fixed on the fort night + and day as it were, in awful silence and immobility. Meantime, by runners + from the lowlands that arrived nearly every day, we heard of the defeat of + one of his lieutenants in the Maipu valley. Scouts sent afar brought news + of a column of infantry advancing through distant passes to the relief of + the fort. They were slow, but we could trace their toilful progress up the + lower valleys. I wondered why Ruiz did not march to attack and destroy + this threatening force, in some wild gorge fit for an ambuscade, in + accordance with his genius for guerilla warfare. But his genius seemed to + have abandoned him to his despair. + </p> + <p> + “It was obvious to me that he could not tear himself away from the sight + of the fort. I protest to you, senores, that I was moved almost to pity by + the sight of this powerless strong man sitting on the ridge, indifferent + to sun, to rain, to cold, to wind; with his hands clasped round his legs + and his chin resting on his knees, gazing—gazing—gazing. + </p> + <p> + “And the fort he kept his eyes fastened on was as still and silent as + himself. The garrison gave no sign of life. They did not even answer the + desultory fire directed at the loopholes. + </p> + <p> + “One night, as I strolled past him, he, without changing his attitude, + spoke to me unexpectedly. ‘I have sent for a gun,’ he said. ‘I shall have + time to get her back and retreat before your Robles manages to crawl up + here.’ + </p> + <p> + “He had sent for a gun to the plains. + </p> + <p> + “It was long in coming, but at last it came. It was a seven-pounder field + gun. Dismounted and lashed crosswise to two long poles, it had been + carried up the narrow paths between two mules with ease. His wild cry of + exultation at daybreak when he saw the gun escort emerge from the valley + rings in my ears now. + </p> + <p> + “But, senores, I have no words to depict his amazement, his fury, his + despair and distraction, when he heard that the animal loaded with the + gun-carriage had, during the last night march, somehow or other tumbled + down a precipice. He broke into menaces of death and torture against the + escort. I kept out of his way all that day, lying behind some bushes, and + wondering what he would do now. Retreat was left for him, but he could not + retreat. + </p> + <p> + “I saw below me his artillerist, Jorge, an old Spanish soldier, building + up a sort of structure with heaped-up saddles. The gun, ready loaded, was + lifted on to that, but in the act of firing the whole thing collapsed and + the shot flew high above the stockade. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more was attempted. One of the ammunition mules had been lost, + too, and they had no more than six shots to fire; ample enough to batter + down the gate providing the gun was well laid. This was impossible without + it being properly mounted. There was no time nor means to construct a + carriage. Already every moment I expected to hear Robles’ bugle-calls echo + amongst the crags. + </p> + <p> + “Peneleo, wandering about uneasily, draped in his skins, sat down for a + moment near me growling his usual tale. + </p> + <p> + “‘Make an entrada—a hole. If make a hole, bueno. If not make a hole, + then vamos—we must go away.’ + </p> + <p> + “After sunset I observed with surprise the Indians making preparations as + if for another assault. Their lines stood ranged in the shadows of the + mountains. On the plain in front of the fort gate I saw a group of men + swaying about in the same place. + </p> + <p> + “I walked down the ridge disregarded. The moonlight in the clear air of + the uplands was bright as day, but the intense shadows confused my sight, + and I could not make out what they were doing. I heard the voice of Jorge, + the artillerist, say in a queer, doubtful tone, ‘It is loaded, senor.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then another voice in that group pronounced firmly the words, ‘Bring the + riata here.’ It was the voice of Gaspar Ruiz. + </p> + <p> + “A silence fell, in which the popping shots of the besieged garrison rang + out sharply. They, too, had observed the group. But the distance was too + great and in the spatter of spent musket-balls cutting up the ground, the + group opened, closed, swayed, giving me a glimpse of busy stooping figures + in its midst. I drew nearer, doubting whether this was a weird vision, a + suggestive and insensate dream. + </p> + <p> + “A strangely stifled voice commanded, ‘Haul the hitches tighter.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Si, senor,’ several other voices answered in tones of awed alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “Then the stifled voice said: ‘Like this. I must be free to breathe.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then there was a concerned noise of many men together. ‘Help him up, + hombres. Steady! Under the other arm.’ + </p> + <p> + “That deadened voice ordered: ‘Bueno! Stand away from me, men.’ + </p> + <p> + “I pushed my way through the recoiling circle, and heard once more that + same oppressed voice saying earnestly: ‘Forget that I am a living man, + Jorge. Forget me altogether, and think of what you have to do.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Be without fear, senor. You are nothing to me but a gun-carriage, and I + shall not waste a shot.’ + </p> + <p> + “I heard the spluttering of a port-fire, and smelt the saltpetre of the + match. I saw suddenly before me a nondescript shape on all fours like a + beast, but with a man’s head drooping below a tubular projection over the + nape of the neck, and the gleam of a rounded mass of bronze on its back. + </p> + <p> + “In front of a silent semicircle of men it squatted alone, with Jorge + behind it and a trumpeter motionless, his trumpet in his hand, by its + side. + </p> + <p> + “Jorge, bent double, muttered, port-fire in hand: ‘An inch to the left, + senor. Too much. So. Now, if you let yourself down a little by letting + your elbows bend, I will . . .’ + </p> + <p> + “He leaped aside, lowering his port-fire, and a burst of flame darted out + of the muzzle of the gun lashed on the man’s back. + </p> + <p> + “Then Gaspar Ruiz lowered himself slowly. ‘Good shot?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Full on, senor.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then load again.’ + </p> + <p> + “He lay there before me on his breast under the darkly glittering bronze + of his monstrous burden, such as no love or strength of man had ever had + to bear in the lamentable history of the world. His arms were spread out, + and he resembled a prostrate penitent on the moonlit ground. + </p> + <p> + “Again I saw him raised to his hands and knees and the men stand away from + him, and old Jorge stoop glancing along the gun. + </p> + <p> + “‘Left a little. Right an inch. Por Dios, senor, stop this trembling. + Where is your strength?’ + </p> + <p> + “The old gunner’s voice was cracked with emotion. He stepped aside, and + quick as lightning brought the spark to the touch-hole. + </p> + <p> + “‘Excellent!’ he cried, tearfully; but Gaspar Ruiz lay for a long time + silent, flattened on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am tired,’ he murmured at last. ‘Will another shot do it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Without doubt,’ said Jorge, bending down to his ear. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then—load,’ I heard him utter distinctly. ‘Trumpeter!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I am here, senor, ready for your word.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Blow a blast at this word that shall be heard from one end of Chile to + the other,’ he said, in an extraordinarily strong voice. ‘And you others + stand ready to cut this accursed riata, for then will be the time for me + to lead you in your rush. Now raise me up, and you, Jorge—be quick + with your aim.’ + </p> + <p> + “The rattle of musketry from the fort nearly drowned his voice. The + palisade was wreathed in smoke and flame. + </p> + <p> + “‘Exert your force forward against the recoil, mi amo,’ said the old + gunner, shakily. ‘Dig your fingers into the ground. So. Now!’ + </p> + <p> + “A cry of exultation escaped him after the shot. The trumpeter raised his + trumpet nearly to his lips and waited. But no word came from the prostrate + man. I fell on one knee, and heard all he had to say then. + </p> + <p> + “‘Something broken,’ he whispered, lifting his head a little, and turning + his eyes towards me in his hopelessly crushed attitude. + </p> + <p> + “‘The gate hangs only by the splinters,’ yelled Jorge. + </p> + <p> + “Gaspar Ruiz tried to speak, but his voice died out in his throat, and I + helped to roll the gun off his broken back. He was insensible. + </p> + <p> + “I kept my lips shut, of course. The signal for the Indians to attack was + never given. Instead, the bugle-calls of the relieving force for which my + ears had thirsted so long, burst out, terrifying like the call of the Last + Day to our surprised enemies. + </p> + <p> + “A tornado, senores, a real hurricane of stampeded men, wild horses, + mounted Indians, swept over me as I cowered on the ground by the side of + Gaspar Ruiz, still stretched out on his face in the shape of a cross. + Peneleo, galloping for life, jabbed at me with his long chuso in passing—for + the sake of old acquaintance, I suppose. How I escaped the flying lead is + more difficult to explain. Venturing to rise on my knees too soon some + soldiers of the 17th Taltal regiment, in their hurry to get at something + alive, nearly bayoneted me on the spot. They looked very disappointed, + too, when, some officers galloping up drove them away with the flat of + their swords. + </p> + <p> + “It was General Robles with his staff. He wanted badly to make some + prisoners. He, too, seemed disappointed for a moment. ‘What! Is it you?’ + he cried. But he dismounted at once to embrace me, for he was an old + friend of my family. I pointed to the body at our feet, and said only + these two words: + </p> + <p> + “‘Gaspar Ruiz.’ + </p> + <p> + “He threw his arms up in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “‘Aha! Your strong man! Always to the last with your strong man. No + matter. He saved our lives when the earth trembled enough to make the + bravest faint with fear. I was frightened out of my wits. But he—no! + Que guape! Where’s the hero who got the best of him? ha! ha! ha! What + killed him, chico?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘His own strength, General,’ I answered.” + </p> + <p> + XII + </p> + <p> + “But Gaspar Ruiz breathed yet. I had him carried in his poncho under the + shelter of some bushes on the very ridge from which he had been gazing so + fixedly at the fort while unseen death was hovering already over his head. + </p> + <p> + “Our troops had bivouacked round the fort. Towards daybreak I was not + surprised to hear that I was designated to command the escort of a + prisoner who was to be sent down at once to Santiago. Of course the + prisoner was Gaspar Ruiz’ wife. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have named you out of regard for your feelings,’ General Robles + remarked. ‘Though the woman really ought to be shot for all the harm she + has done to the Republic.’ + </p> + <p> + “And as I made a movement of shocked protest, he continued: + </p> + <p> + “‘Now he is as well as dead, she is of no importance. Nobody will know + what to do with her. However, the Government wants her.’ He shrugged his + shoulders. ‘I suppose he must have buried large quantities of his loot in + places that she alone knows of.’ + </p> + <p> + “At dawn I saw her coming up the ridge, guarded by two soldiers, and + carrying her child on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “I walked to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Is he living yet?’ she asked, confronting me with that white, impassive + face he used to look at in an adoring way. + </p> + <p> + “I bent my head, and led her round a clump of bushes without a word. His + eyes were open. He breathed with difficulty, and uttered her name with a + great effort. + </p> + <p> + “‘Erminia!’ + </p> + <p> + “She knelt at his head. The little girl, unconscious of him, and with her + big eyes looking about, began to chatter suddenly, in a joyous, thin + voice. She pointed a tiny finger at the rosy glow of sunrise behind the + black shapes of the peaks. And while that child-talk, incomprehensible and + sweet to the ear, lasted, those two, the dying man and the kneeling woman, + remained silent, looking into each other’s eyes, listening to the frail + sound. Then the prattle stopped. The child laid its head against its + mother’s breast and was still. + </p> + <p> + “‘It was for you,’ he began. ‘Forgive.’ His voice failed him. Presently I + heard a mutter and caught the pitiful words: ‘Not strong enough.’ + </p> + <p> + “She looked at him with an extraordinary intensity. He tried to smile, and + in a humble tone, ‘Forgive me,’ he repeated. ‘Leaving you . . .’ + </p> + <p> + “She bent down, dry-eyed and in a steady voice: ‘On all the earth I have + loved nothing but you, Gaspar,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “His head made a movement. His eyes revived. ‘At last!’ he sighed out. + Then, anxiously, ‘But is this true . . . is this true?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘As true as that there is no mercy and justice in this world,’ she + answered him, passionately. She stooped over his face. He tried to raise + his head, but it fell back, and when she kissed his lips he was already + dead. His glazed eyes stared at the sky, on which pink clouds floated very + high. But I noticed the eyelids of the child, pressed to its mother’s + breast, droop and close slowly. She had gone to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “The widow of Gaspar Ruiz, the strong man, allowed me to lead her away + without shedding a tear. + </p> + <p> + “For travelling we had arranged for her a sidesaddle very much like a + chair, with a board swung beneath to rest her feet on. And the first day + she rode without uttering a word, and hardly for one moment turning her + eyes away from the little girl, whom she held on her knees. At our first + camp I saw her during the night walking about, rocking the child in her + arms and gazing down at it by the light of the moon. After we had started + on our second day’s march she asked me how soon we should come to the + first village of the inhabited country. + </p> + <p> + “I said we should be there about noon. + </p> + <p> + “‘And will there be women there?’ she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I told her that it was a large village. ‘There will be men and women + there, senora,’ I said, ‘whose hearts shall be made glad by the news that + all the unrest and war is over now.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, it is all over now,’ she repeated. Then, after a time: ‘Senor + officer, what will your Government do with me?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I do not know, senora,’ I said. ‘They will treat you well, no doubt. We + republicans are not savages and take no vengeance on women.’ + </p> + <p> + “She gave me a look at the word ‘republicans’ which I imagined full of + undying hate. But an hour or so afterwards, as we drew up to let the + baggage mules go first along a narrow path skirting a precipice, she + looked at me with such a white, troubled face that I felt a great pity for + her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Senor officer,’ she said, ‘I am weak, I tremble. It is an insensate + fear.’ And indeed her lips did tremble while she tried to smile, glancing + at the beginning of the narrow path which was not so dangerous after all. + ‘I am afraid I shall drop the child. Gaspar saved your life, you remember. + . . . Take her from me.’ + </p> + <p> + “I took the child out of her extended arms. ‘Shut your eyes, senora, and + trust to your mule,’ I recommended. + </p> + <p> + “She did so, and with her pallor and her wasted, thin face she looked + deathlike. At a turn of the path where a great crag of purple porphyry + closes the view of the lowlands, I saw her open her eyes. I rode just + behind her holding the little girl with my right arm. ‘The child is all + right,’ I cried encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ she answered, faintly; and then, to my intense terror, I saw her + stand up on the foot-rest, staring horribly, and throw herself forward + into the chasm on our right. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot describe to you the sudden and abject fear that came over me at + that dreadful sight. It was a dread of the abyss, the dread of the crags + which seemed to nod upon me. My head swam. I pressed the child to my side + and sat my horse as still as a statue. I was speechless and cold all over. + Her mule staggered, sidling close to the rock, and then went on. My horse + only pricked up his ears with a slight snort. My heart stood still, and + from the depths of the precipice the stones rattling in the bed of the + furious stream made me almost insane with their sound. + </p> + <p> + “Next moment we were round the turn and on a broad and grassy slope. And + then I yelled. My men came running back to me in great alarm. It seems + that at first I did nothing but shout, ‘She has given the child into my + hands! She has given the child into my hands!’ The escort thought I had + gone mad.” + </p> + <p> + General Santierra ceased and got up from the table. “And that is all, + senores,” he concluded, with a courteous glance at his rising guests. + </p> + <p> + “But what became of the child. General?” we asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the child, the child.” + </p> + <p> + He walked to one of the windows opening on his beautiful garden, the + refuge of his old days. Its fame was great in the land. Keeping us back + with a raised arm, he called out, “Erminia, Erminia!” and waited. Then his + cautioning arm dropped, and we crowded to the windows. + </p> + <p> + From a clump of trees a woman had come upon the broad walk bordered with + flowers. We could hear the rustle of her starched petticoats and observed + the ample spread of her old-fashioned black silk skirt. She looked up, and + seeing all these eyes staring at her stopped, frowned, smiled, shook her + finger at the General, who was laughing boisterously, and drawing the + black lace on her head so as to partly conceal her haughty profile, passed + out of our sight, walking with stiff dignity. + </p> + <p> + “You have beheld the guardian angel of the old man—and her to whom + you owe all that is seemly and comfortable in my hospitality. Somehow, + senores, though the flame of love has been kindled early in my breast, I + have never married. And because of that perhaps the sparks of the sacred + fire are not yet extinct here.” He struck his broad chest. “Still alive, + still alive,” he said, with serio-comic emphasis. “But I shall not marry + now. She is General Santierra’s adopted daughter and heiress.” + </p> + <p> + One of our fellow-guests, a young naval officer, described her afterwards + as a “short, stout, old girl of forty or thereabouts.” We had all noticed + that her hair was turning grey, and that she had very fine black eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And,” General Santierra continued, “neither would she ever hear of + marrying any one. A real calamity! Good, patient, devoted to the old man. + A simple soul. But I would not advise any of you to ask for her hand, for + if she took yours into hers it would be only to crush your bones. Ah! she + does not jest on that subject. And she is the own daughter of her father, + the strong man who perished through his own strength: the strength of his + body, of his simplicity—of his love!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INFORMER + </h2> + <h3> + AN IRONIC TALE + </h3> + <p> + Mr. X came to me, preceded by a letter of introduction from a good friend + of mine in Paris, specifically to see my collection of Chinese bronzes and + porcelain. + </p> + <p> + “My friend in Paris is a collector, too. He collects neither porcelain, + nor bronzes, nor pictures, nor medals, nor stamps, nor anything that could + be profitably dispersed under an auctioneer’s hammer. He would reject, + with genuine surprise, the name of a collector. Nevertheless, that’s what + he is by temperament. He collects acquaintances. It is delicate work. He + brings to it the patience, the passion, the determination of a true + collector of curiosities. His collection does not contain any royal + personages. I don’t think he considers them sufficiently rare and + interesting; but, with that exception, he has met with and talked to + everyone worth knowing on any conceivable ground. He observes them, + listens to them, penetrates them, measures them, and puts the memory away + in the galleries of his mind. He has schemed, plotted, and travelled all + over Europe in order to add to his collection of distinguished personal + acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + “As he is wealthy, well connected, and unprejudiced, his collection is + pretty complete, including objects (or should I say subjects?) whose value + is unappreciated by the vulgar, and often unknown to popular fame. Of + trevolte of modern times. The world knows him as a revolutionary writer + whose savage irony has laid bare the rottenness of the most respectable + institutions. He has scalped every venerated head, and has mangled at the + stake of his wit every received opinion and every recognized principle of + conduct and policy. Who does not remember his flaming red revolutionary + pamphlets? Their sudden swarmings used to overwhelm the powers of every + Continental police like a plague of crimson gadflies. But this extreme + writer has been also the active inspirer of secret societies, the + mysterious unknown Number One of desperate conspiracies suspected and + unsuspected, matured or baffled. And the world at large has never had an + inkling of that fact! This accounts for him going about amongst us to this + day, a veteran of many subterranean campaigns, standing aside now, safe + within his reputation of merely the greatest destructive publicist that + ever lived.” + </p> + <p> + Thus wrote my friend, adding that Mr. X was an enlightened connoisseur of + bronzes and china, and asking me to show him my collection. + </p> + <p> + X turned up in due course. My treasures are disposed in three large rooms + without carpets and curtains. There is no other furniture than the etagres + and the glass cases whose contents shall be worth a fortune to my heirs. I + allow no fires to be lighted, for fear of accidents, and a fire-proof door + separates them from the rest of the house. + </p> + <p> + It was a bitter cold day. We kept on our overcoats and hats. Middle-sized + and spare, his eyes alert in a long, Roman-nosed countenance, X walked on + his neat little feet, with short steps, and looked at my collection + intelligently. I hope I looked at him intelligently, too. A snow-white + moustache and imperial made his nutbrown complexion appear darker than it + really was. In his fur coat and shiny tall hat that terrible man looked + fashionable. I believe he belonged to a noble family, and could have + called himself Vicomte X de la Z if he chose. We talked nothing but + bronzes and porcelain. He was remarkably appreciative. We parted on + cordial terms. + </p> + <p> + Where he was staying I don’t know. I imagine he must have been a lonely + man. Anarchists, I suppose, have no families—not, at any rate, as we + understand that social relation. Organization into families may answer to + a need of human nature, but in the last instance it is based on law, and + therefore must be something odious and impossible to an anarchist. But, + indeed, I don’t understand anarchists. Does a man of that—of that—persuasion + still remain an anarchist when alone, quite alone and going to bed, for + instance? Does he lay his head on the pillow, pull his bedclothes over + him, and go to sleep with the necessity of the chambardement general, as + the French slang has it, of the general blow-up, always present to his + mind? And if so how can he? I am sure that if such a faith (or such a + fanaticism) once mastered my thoughts I would never be able to compose + myself sufficiently to sleep or eat or perform any of the routine acts of + daily life. I would want no wife, no children; I could have no friends, it + seems to me; and as to collecting bronzes or china, that, I should say, + would be quite out of the question. But I don’t know. All I know is that + Mr. X took his meals in a very good restaurant which I frequented also. + </p> + <p> + With his head uncovered, the silver top-knot of his brushed-up hair + completed the character of his physiognomy, all bony ridges and sunken + hollows, clothed in a perfect impassiveness of expression. His meagre + brown hands emerging from large white cuffs came and went breaking bread, + pouring wine, and so on, with quiet mechanical precision. His head and + body above the tablecloth had a rigid immobility. This firebrand, this + great agitator, exhibited the least possible amount of warmth and + animation. His voice was rasping, cold, and monotonous in a low key. He + could not be called a talkative personality; but with his detached calm + manner he appeared as ready to keep the conversation going as to drop it + at any moment. + </p> + <p> + And his conversation was by no means commonplace. To me, I own, there was + some excitement in talking quietly across a dinner-table with a man whose + venomous pen-stabs had sapped the vitality of at least one monarchy. That + much was a matter of public knowledge. But I knew more. I knew of him—from + my friend—as a certainty what the guardians of social order in + Europe had at most only suspected, or dimly guessed at. + </p> + <p> + He had had what I may call his underground life. And as I sat, evening + after evening, facing him at dinner, a curiosity in that direction would + naturally arise in my mind. I am a quiet and peaceable product of + civilization, and know no passion other than the passion for collecting + things which are rare, and must remain exquisite even if approaching to + the monstrous. Some Chinese bronzes are monstrously precious. And here + (out of my friend’s collection), here I had before me a kind of rare + monster. It is true that this monster was polished and in a sense even + exquisite. His beautiful unruffled manner was that. But then he was not of + bronze. He was not even Chinese, which would have enabled one to + contemplate him calmly across the gulf of racial difference. He was alive + and European; he had the manner of good society, wore a coat and hat like + mine, and had pretty near the same taste in cooking. It was too frightful + to think of. + </p> + <p> + One evening he remarked, casually, in the course of conversation, “There’s + no amendment to be got out of mankind except by terror and violence.” + </p> + <p> + You can imagine the effect of such a phrase out of such a man’s mouth upon + a person like myself, whose whole scheme of life had been based upon a + suave and delicate discrimination of social and artistic values. Just + imagine! Upon me, to whom all sorts and forms of violence appeared as + unreal as the giants, ogres, and seven-headed hydras whose activities + affect, fantastically, the course of legends and fairy-tales! + </p> + <p> + I seemed suddenly to hear above the festive bustle and clatter of the + brilliant restaurant the mutter of a hungry and seditious multitude. + </p> + <p> + I suppose I am impressionable and imaginative. I had a disturbing vision + of darkness, full of lean jaws and wild eyes, amongst the hundred electric + lights of the place. But somehow this vision made me angry, too. The sight + of that man, so calm, breaking bits of white bread, exasperated me. And I + had the audacity to ask him how it was that the starving proletariat of + Europe to whom he had been preaching revolt and violence had not been made + indignant by his openly luxurious life. “At all this,” I said, pointedly, + with a glance round the room and at the bottle of champagne we generally + shared between us at dinner. + </p> + <p> + He remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “Do I feed on their toil and their heart’s blood? Am I a speculator or a + capitalist? Did I steal my fortune from a starving people? No! They know + this very well. And they envy me nothing. The miserable mass of the people + is generous to its leaders. What I have acquired has come to me through my + writings; not from the millions of pamphlets distributed gratis to the + hungry and the oppressed, but from the hundreds of thousands of copies + sold to the well-fed bourgeoisie. You know that my writings were at one + time the rage, the fashion—the thing to read with wonder and horror, + to turn your eyes up at my pathos . . . or else, to laugh in ecstasies at + my wit.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I admitted. “I remember, of course; and I confess frankly that I + could never understand that infatuation.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know yet,” he said, “that an idle and selfish class loves to + see mischief being made, even if it is made at its own expense? Its own + life being all a matter of pose and gesture, it is unable to realize the + power and the danger of a real movement and of words that have no sham + meaning. It is all fun and sentiment. It is sufficient, for instance, to + point out the attitude of the old French aristocracy towards the + philosophers whose words were preparing the Great Revolution. Even in + England, where you have some common-sense, a demagogue has only to shout + loud enough and long enough to find some backing in the very class he is + shouting at. You, too, like to see mischief being made. The demagogue + carries the amateurs of emotion with him. Amateurism in this, that, and + the other thing is a delightfully easy way of killing time, and feeding + one’s own vanity—the silly vanity of being abreast with the ideas of + the day after to-morrow. Just as good and otherwise harmless people will + join you in ecstasies over your collection without having the slightest + notion in what its marvellousness really consists.” + </p> + <p> + I hung my head. It was a crushing illustration of the sad truth he + advanced. The world is full of such people. And that instance of the + French aristocracy before the Revolution was extremely telling, too. I + could not traverse his statement, though its cynicism—always a + distasteful trait—took off much of its value to my mind. However, I + admit I was impressed. I felt the need to say something which would not be + in the nature of assent and yet would not invite discussion. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say,” I observed, airily, “that extreme revolutionists + have ever been actively assisted by the infatuation of such people?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean exactly that by what I said just now. I generalized. But + since you ask me, I may tell you that such help has been given to + revolutionary activities, more or less consciously, in various countries. + And even in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” I protested with firmness. “We don’t play with fire to that + extent.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you can better afford it than others, perhaps. But let me observe + that most women, if not always ready to play with fire, are generally + eager to play with a loose spark or so.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this a joke?” I asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “If it is, I am not aware of it,” he said, woodenly. “I was thinking of an + instance. Oh! mild enough in a way . . .” + </p> + <p> + I became all expectation at this. I had tried many times to approach him + on his underground side, so to speak. The very word had been pronounced + between us. But he had always met me with his impenetrable calm. + </p> + <p> + “And at the same time,” Mr. X continued, “it will give you a notion of the + difficulties that may arise in what you are pleased to call underground + work. It is sometimes difficult to deal with them. Of course there is no + hierarchy amongst the affiliated. No rigid system.” + </p> + <p> + My surprise was great, but short-lived. Clearly, amongst extreme + anarchists there could be no hierarchy; nothing in the nature of a law of + precedence. The idea of anarchy ruling among anarchists was comforting, + too. It could not possibly make for efficiency. + </p> + <p> + Mr. X startled me by asking, abruptly, “You know Hermione Street?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded doubtful assent. Hermione Street has been, within the last three + years, improved out of any man’s knowledge. The name exists still, but not + one brick or stone of the old Hermione Street is left now. It was the old + street he meant, for he said: + </p> + <p> + “There was a row of two-storied brick houses on the left, with their backs + against the wing of a great public building—you remember. Would it + surprise you very much to hear that one of these houses was for a time the + centre of anarchist propaganda and of what you would call underground + action?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” I declared. Hermione Street had never been particularly + respectable, as I remembered it. + </p> + <p> + “The house was the property of a distinguished government official,” he + added, sipping his champagne. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” I said, this time not believing a word of it. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he was not living there,” Mr. X continued. “But from ten till + four he sat next door to it, the dear man, in his well-appointed private + room in the wing of the public building I’ve mentioned. To be strictly + accurate, I must explain that the house in Hermione Street did not really + belong to him. It belonged to his grown-up children—a daughter and a + son. The girl, a fine figure, was by no means vulgarly pretty. To more + personal charm than mere youth could account for, she added the seductive + appearance of enthusiasm, of independence, of courageous thought. I + suppose she put on these appearances as she put on her picturesque dresses + and for the same reason: to assert her individuality at any cost. You + know, women would go to any length almost for such a purpose. She went to + a great length. She had acquired all the appropriate gestures of + revolutionary convictions—the gestures of pity, of anger, of + indignation against the anti-humanitarian vices of the social class to + which she belonged herself. All this sat on her striking personality as + well as her slightly original costumes. Very slightly original; just + enough to mark a protest against the philistinism of the overfed + taskmasters of the poor. Just enough, and no more. It would not have done + to go too far in that direction—you understand. But she was of age, + and nothing stood in the way of her offering her house to the + revolutionary workers.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean it!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” he affirmed, “that she made that very practical gesture. + How else could they have got hold of it? The cause is not rich. And, + moreover, there would have been difficulties with any ordinary + house-agent, who would have wanted references and so on. The group she + came in contact with while exploring the poor quarters of the town (you + know the gesture of charity and personal service which was so fashionable + some years ago) accepted with gratitude. The first advantage was that + Hermione Street is, as you know, well away from the suspect part of the + town, specially watched by the police. + </p> + <p> + “The ground floor consisted of a little Italian restaurant, of the + flyblown sort. There was no difficulty in buying the proprietor out. A + woman and a man belonging to the group took it on. The man had been a + cook. The comrades could get their meals there, unnoticed amongst the + other customers. This was another advantage. The first floor was occupied + by a shabby Variety Artists’ Agency—an agency for performers in + inferior music-halls, you know. A fellow called Bomm, I remember. He was + not disturbed. It was rather favourable than otherwise to have a lot of + foreign-looking people, jugglers, acrobats, singers of both sexes, and so + on, going in and out all day long. The police paid no attention to new + faces, you see. The top floor happened, most conveniently, to stand empty + then.” + </p> + <p> + X interrupted himself to attack impassively, with measured movements, a + bombe glacee which the waiter had just set down on the table. He swallowed + carefully a few spoonfuls of the iced sweet, and asked me, “Did you ever + hear of Stone’s Dried Soup?” + </p> + <p> + “Hear of what?” + </p> + <p> + “It was,” X pursued, evenly, “a comestible article once rather prominently + advertised in the dailies, but which never, somehow, gained the favour of + the public. The enterprise fizzled out, as you say here. Parcels of their + stock could be picked up at auctions at considerably less than a penny a + pound. The group bought some of it, and an agency for Stone’s Dried Soup + was started on the top floor. A perfectly respectable business. The stuff, + a yellow powder of extremely unappetizing aspect, was put up in large + square tins, of which six went to a case. If anybody ever came to give an + order, it was, of course, executed. But the advantage of the powder was + this, that things could be concealed in it very conveniently. Now and then + a special case got put on a van and sent off to be exported abroad under + the very nose of the policeman on duty at the corner. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I do,” I said, with an expressive nod at the remnants of the + bombe melting slowly in the dish. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. But the cases were useful in another way, too. In the basement, + or in the cellar at the back, rather, two printing-presses were + established. A lot of revolutionary literature of the most inflammatory + kind was got away from the house in Stone’s Dried Soup cases. The brother + of our anarchist young lady found some occupation there. He wrote + articles, helped to set up type and pull off the sheets, and generally + assisted the man in charge, a very able young fellow called Sevrin. + </p> + <p> + “The guiding spirit of that group was a fanatic of social revolution. He + is dead now. He was an engraver and etcher of genius. You must have seen + his work. It is much sought after by certain amateurs now. He began by + being revolutionary in his art, and ended by becoming a revolutionist, + after his wife and child had died in want and misery. He used to say that + the bourgeoisie, the smug, overfed lot, had killed them. That was his real + belief. He still worked at his art and led a double life. He was tall, + gaunt, and swarthy, with a long, brown beard and deep-set eyes. You must + have seen him. His name was Horne.” + </p> + <p> + At this I was really startled. Of course years ago I used to meet Horne + about. He looked like a powerful, rough gipsy, in an old top hat, with a + red muffler round his throat and buttoned up in a long, shabby overcoat. + He talked of his art with exaltation, and gave one the impression of being + strung up to the verge of insanity. A small group of connoisseurs + appreciated his work. Who would have thought that this man. . . . Amazing! + And yet it was not, after all, so difficult to believe. + </p> + <p> + “As you see,” X went on, “this group was in a position to pursue its work + of propaganda, and the other kind of work, too, under very advantageous + conditions. They were all resolute, experienced men of a superior stamp. + And yet we became struck at length by the fact that plans prepared in + Hermione Street almost invariably failed.” + </p> + <p> + “Who were ‘we’?” I asked, pointedly. + </p> + <p> + “Some of us in Brussels—at the centre,” he said, hastily. “Whatever + vigorous action originated in Hermione Street seemed doomed to failure. + Something always happened to baffle the best planned manifestations in + every part of Europe. It was a time of general activity. You must not + imagine that all our failures are of a loud sort, with arrests and trials. + That is not so. Often the police work quietly, almost secretly, defeating + our combinations by clever counter-plotting. No arrests, no noise, no + alarming of the public mind and inflaming the passions. It is a wise + procedure. But at that time the police were too uniformly successful from + the Mediterranean to the Baltic. It was annoying and began to look + dangerous. At last we came to the conclusion that there must be some + untrustworthy elements amongst the London groups. And I came over to see + what could be done quietly. + </p> + <p> + “My first step was to call upon our young Lady Amateur of anarchism at her + private house. She received me in a flattering way. I judged that she knew + nothing of the chemical and other operations going on at the top of the + house in Hermione Street. The printing of anarchist literature was the + only ‘activity’ she seemed to be aware of there. She was displaying very + strikingly the usual signs of severe enthusiasm, and had already written + many sentimental articles with ferocious conclusions. I could see she was + enjoying herself hugely, with all the gestures and grimaces of deadly + earnestness. They suited her big-eyed, broad-browed face and the good + carriage of her shapely head, crowned by a magnificent lot of brown hair + done in an unusual and becoming style. Her brother was in the room, too, a + serious youth, with arched eyebrows and wearing a red necktie, who struck + me as being absolutely in the dark about everything in the world, + including himself. By and by a tall young man came in. He was clean-shaved + with a strong bluish jaw and something of the air of a taciturn actor or + of a fanatical priest: the type with thick black eyebrows—you know. + But he was very presentable indeed. He shook hands at once vigorously with + each of us. The young lady came up to me and murmured sweetly, ‘Comrade + Sevrin.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had never seen him before. He had little to say to us, but sat down by + the side of the girl, and they fell at once into earnest conversation. She + leaned forward in her deep armchair, and took her nicely rounded chin in + her beautiful white hand. He looked attentively into her eyes. It was the + attitude of love-making, serious, intense, as if on the brink of the + grave. I suppose she felt it necessary to round and complete her + assumption of advanced ideas, of revolutionary lawlessness, by making + believe to be in love with an anarchist. And this one, I repeat, was + extremely presentable, notwithstanding his fanatical black-browed aspect. + After a few stolen glances in their direction, I had no doubt that he was + in earnest. As to the lady, her gestures were unapproachable, better than + the very thing itself in the blended suggestion of dignity, sweetness, + condescension, fascination, surrender, and reserve. She interpreted her + conception of what that precise sort of love-making should be with + consummate art. And so far, she, too, no doubt, was in earnest. Gestures—but + so perfect! + </p> + <p> + “After I had been left alone with our Lady Amateur I informed her + guardedly of the object of my visit. I hinted at our suspicions. I wanted + to hear what she would have to say, and half expected some perhaps + unconscious revelation. All she said was, ‘That’s serious,’ looking + delightfully concerned and grave. But there was a sparkle in her eyes + which meant plainly, ‘How exciting!’ After all, she knew little of + anything except of words. Still, she undertook to put me in communication + with Horne, who was not easy to find unless in Hermione Street, where I + did not wish to show myself just then. + </p> + <p> + “I met Horne. This was another kind of a fanatic altogether. I exposed to + him the conclusion we in Brussels had arrived at, and pointed out the + significant series of failures. To this he answered with irrelevant + exaltation: + </p> + <p> + “‘I have something in hand that shall strike terror into the heart of + these gorged brutes.’ + </p> + <p> + “And then I learned that, by excavating in one of the cellars of the + house, he and some companions had made their way into the vaults under the + great public building I have mentioned before. The blowing up of a whole + wing was a certainty as soon as the materials were ready. + </p> + <p> + “I was not so appalled at the stupidity of that move as I might have been + had not the usefulness of our centre in Hermione Street become already + very problematical. In fact, in my opinion it was much more of a police + trap by this time than anything else. + </p> + <p> + “What was necessary now was to discover what, or rather who, was wrong, + and I managed at last to get that idea into Horne’s head. He glared, + perplexed, his nostrils working as if he were sniffing treachery in the + air. + </p> + <p> + “And here comes a piece of work which will no doubt strike you as a sort + of theatrical expedient. And yet what else could have been done? The + problem was to find out the untrustworthy member of the group. But no + suspicion could be fastened on one more than another. To set a watch upon + them all was not very practicable. Besides, that proceeding often fails. + In any case, it takes time, and the danger was pressing. I felt certain + that the premises in Hermione Street would be ultimately raided, though + the police had evidently such confidence in the informer that the house, + for the time being, was not even watched. Horne was positive on that + point. Under the circumstances it was an unfavourable symptom. Something + had to be done quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I decided to organize a raid myself upon the group. Do you understand? A + raid of other trusty comrades personating the police. A conspiracy within + a conspiracy. You see the object of it, of course. When apparently about + to be arrested I hoped the informer would betray himself in some way or + other; either by some unguarded act or simply by his unconcerned + demeanour, for instance. Of coarse there was the risk of complete failure + and the no lesser risk of some fatal accident in the course of resistance, + perhaps, or in the efforts at escape. For, as you will easily see, the + Hermione Street group had to be actually and completely taken unawares, as + I was sure they would be by the real police before very long. The informer + was amongst them, and Horne alone could be let into the secret of my plan. + </p> + <p> + “I will not enter into the detail of my preparations. It was not very easy + to arrange, but it was done very well, with a really convincing effect. + The sham police invaded the restaurant, whose shutters were immediately + put up. The surprise was perfect. Most of the Hermione Street party were + found in the second cellar, enlarging the hole communicating with the + vaults of the great public building. At the first alarm, several comrades + bolted through impulsively into the aforesaid vault, where, of course, had + this been a genuine raid, they would have been hopelessly trapped. We did + not bother about them for the moment. They were harmless enough. The top + floor caused considerable anxiety to Horne and myself. There, surrounded + by tins of Stone’s Dried Soup, a comrade, nick-named the Professor (he was + an ex-science student) was engaged in perfecting some new detonators. He + was an abstracted, self-confident, sallow little man, armed with large + round spectacles, and we were afraid that under a mistaken impression he + would blow himself up and wreck the house about our ears. I rushed + upstairs and found him already at the door, on the alert, listening, as he + said, to ‘suspicious noises down below.’ Before I had quite finished + explaining to him what was going on he shrugged his shoulders disdainfully + and turned away to his balances and test-tubes. His was the true spirit of + an extreme revolutionist. Explosives were his faith, his hope, his weapon, + and his shield. He perished a couple of years afterwards in a secret + laboratory through the premature explosion of one of his improved + detonators. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrying down again, I found an impressive scene in the gloom of the big + cellar. The man who personated the inspector (he was no stranger to the + part) was speaking harshly, and giving bogus orders to his bogus + subordinates for the removal of his prisoners. Evidently nothing + enlightening had happened so far. Horne, saturnine and swarthy, waited + with folded arms, and his patient, moody expectation had an air of + stoicism well in keeping with the situation. I detected in the shadows one + of the Hermione Street group surreptitiously chewing up and swallowing a + small piece of paper. Some compromising scrap, I suppose; perhaps just a + note of a few names and addresses. He was a true and faithful ‘companion.’ + But the fund of secret malice which lurks at the bottom of our sympathies + caused me to feel amused at that perfectly uncalled-for performance. + </p> + <p> + “In every other respect the risky experiment, the theatrical coup, if you + like to call it so, seemed to have failed. The deception could not be kept + up much longer; the explanation would bring about a very embarrassing and + even grave situation. The man who had eaten the paper would be furious. + The fellows who had bolted away would be angry, too. + </p> + <p> + “To add to my vexation, the door communicating with the other cellar, + where the printing-presses were, flew open, and our young lady + revolutionist appeared, a black silhouette in a close-fitting dress and a + large hat, with the blaze of gas flaring in there at her back. Over her + shoulder I perceived the arched eyebrows and the red necktie of her + brother. + </p> + <p> + “The last people in the world I wanted to see then! They had gone that + evening to some amateur concert for the delectation of the poor people, + you know; but she had insisted on leaving early, on purpose to call in + Hermione Street on the way home, under the pretext of having some work to + do. Her usual task was to correct the proofs of the Italian and French + editions of the Alarm Bell and the Firebrand.” . . . + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” I murmured. I had been shown once a few copies of these + publications. Nothing, in my opinion, could have been less fit for the + eyes of a young lady. They were the most advanced things of the sort; + advanced, I mean, beyond all bounds of reason and decency. One of them + preached the dissolution of all social and domestic ties; the other + advocated systematic murder. To think of a young girl calmly tracking + printers’ errors all along the sort of abominable sentences I remembered + was intolerable to my sentiment of womanhood. Mr. X, after giving me a + glance, pursued steadily. + </p> + <p> + “I think, however, that she came mostly to exercise her fascinations upon + Sevrin, and to receive his homage in her queenly and condescending way. + She was aware of both—her power and his homage—and enjoyed + them with, I dare say, complete innocence. We have no ground in expediency + or morals to quarrel with her on that account. Charm in woman and + exceptional intelligence in man are a law unto themselves. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + I refrained from expressing my abhorrence of that licentious doctrine + because of my curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “But what happened then?” I hastened to ask. + </p> + <p> + X went on crumbling slowly a small piece of bread with a careless left + hand. + </p> + <p> + “What happened, in effect,” he confessed, “is that she saved the + situation.” + </p> + <p> + “She gave you an opportunity to end your rather sinister farce,” I + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, preserving his impassive bearing. “The farce was bound to + end soon. And it ended in a very few minutes. And it ended well. Had she + not come in, it might have ended badly. Her brother, of course, did not + count. They had slipped into the house quietly some time before. The + printing-cellar had an entrance of its own. Not finding any one there, she + sat down to her proofs, expecting Sevrin to return to his work at any + moment. He did not do so. She grew impatient, heard through the door the + sounds of a disturbance in the other cellar and naturally came in to see + what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Sevrin had been with us. At first he had seemed to me the most amazed of + the whole raided lot. He appeared for an instant as if paralyzed with + astonishment. He stood rooted to the spot. He never moved a limb. A + solitary gas-jet flared near his head; all the other lights had been put + out at the first alarm. And presently, from my dark corner, I observed on + his shaven actor’s face an expression of puzzled, vexed watchfulness. He + knitted his heavy eyebrows. The corners of his mouth dropped scornfully. + He was angry. Most likely he had seen through the game, and I regretted I + had not taken him from the first into my complete confidence. + </p> + <p> + “But with the appearance of the girl he became obviously alarmed. It was + plain. I could see it grow. The change of his expression was swift and + startling. And I did not know why. The reason never occurred to me. I was + merely astonished at the extreme alteration of the man’s face. Of course + he had not been aware of her presence in the other cellar; but that did + not explain the shock her advent had given him. For a moment he seemed to + have been reduced to imbecility. He opened his mouth as if to shout, or + perhaps only to gasp. At any rate, it was somebody else who shouted. This + somebody else was the heroic comrade whom I had detected swallowing a + piece of paper. With laudable presence of mind he let out a warning yell. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s the police! Back! Back! Run back, and bolt the door behind you.’ + </p> + <p> + “It was an excellent hint; but instead of retreating the girl continued to + advance, followed by her long-faced brother in his knickerbocker suit, in + which he had been singing comic songs for the entertainment of a joyless + proletariat. She advanced not as if she had failed to understand—the + word ‘police’ has an unmistakable sound—but rather as if she could + not help herself. She did not advance with the free gait and expanding + presence of a distinguished amateur anarchist amongst poor, struggling + professionals, but with slightly raised shoulders, and her elbows pressed + close to her body, as if trying to shrink within herself. Her eyes were + fixed immovably upon Sevrin. Sevrin the man, I fancy; not Sevrin the + anarchist. But she advanced. And that was natural. For all their + assumption of independence, girls of that class are used to the feeling of + being specially protected, as, in fact, they are. This feeling accounts + for nine tenths of their audacious gestures. Her face had gone completely + colourless. Ghastly. Fancy having it brought home to her so brutally that + she was the sort of person who must run away from the police! I believe + she was pale with indignation, mostly, though there was, of course, also + the concern for her intact personality, a vague dread of some sort of + rudeness. And, naturally, she turned to a man, to the man on whom she had + a claim of fascination and homage—the man who could not conceivably + fail her at any juncture.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” I cried, amazed at this analysis, “if it had been serious, real, I + mean—as she thought it was—what could she expect him to do for + her?” + </p> + <p> + X never moved a muscle of his face. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows. I imagine that this charming, generous, and independent + creature had never known in her life a single genuine thought; I mean a + single thought detached from small human vanities, or whose source was not + in some conventional perception. All I know is that after advancing a few + steps she extended her hand towards the motionless Sevrin. And that at + least was no gesture. It was a natural movement. As to what she expected + him to do, who can tell? The impossible. But whatever she expected, it + could not have come up, I am safe to say, to what he had made up his mind + to do, even before that entreating hand had appealed to him so directly. + It had not been necessary. From the moment he had seen her enter that + cellar, he had made up his mind to sacrifice his future usefulness, to + throw off the impenetrable, solidly fastened mask it had been his pride to + wear—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” I interrupted, puzzled. “Was it Sevrin, then, who was—” + </p> + <p> + “He was. The most persistent, the most dangerous, the craftiest, the most + systematic of informers. A genius amongst betrayers. Fortunately for us, + he was unique. The man was a fanatic, I have told you. Fortunately, again, + for us, he had fallen in love with the accomplished and innocent gestures + of that girl. An actor in desperate earnest himself, he must have believed + in the absolute value of conventional signs. As to the grossness of the + trap into which he fell, the explanation must be that two sentiments of + such absorbing magnitude cannot exist simultaneously in one heart. The + danger of that other and unconscious comedian robbed him of his vision, of + his perspicacity, of his judgment. Indeed, it did at first rob him of his + self-possession. But he regained that through the necessity—as it + appeared to him imperiously—to do something at once. To do what? + Why, to get her out of the house as quickly as possible. He was + desperately anxious to do that. I have told you he was terrified. It could + not be about himself. He had been surprised and annoyed at a move quite + unforeseen and premature. I may even say he had been furious. He was + accustomed to arrange the last scene of his betrayals with a deep, subtle + art which left his revolutionist reputation untouched. But it seems clear + to me that at the same time he had resolved to make the best of it, to + keep his mask resolutely on. It was only with the discovery of her being + in the house that everything—the forced calm, the restraint of his + fanaticism, the mask—all came off together in a kind of panic. Why + panic, do you ask? The answer is very simple. He remembered—or, I + dare say, he had never forgotten—the Professor alone at the top of + the house, pursuing his researches, surrounded by tins upon tins of + Stone’s Dried Soup. There was enough in some few of them to bury us all + where we stood under a heap of bricks. Sevrin, of course, was aware of + that. And we must believe, also, that he knew the exact character of the + man. He had gauged so many such characters! Or perhaps he only gave the + Professor credit for what he himself was capable of. But, in any case, the + effect was produced. And suddenly he raised his voice in authority. + </p> + <p> + “‘Get the lady away at once.’ + </p> + <p> + “It turned out that he was as hoarse as a crow; result, no doubt, of the + intense emotion. It passed off in a moment. But these fateful words issued + forth from his contracted throat in a discordant, ridiculous croak. They + required no answer. The thing was done. However, the man personating the + inspector judged it expedient to say roughly: + </p> + <p> + “‘She shall go soon enough, together with the rest of you.’ + </p> + <p> + “These were the last words belonging to the comedy part of this affair. + </p> + <p> + “Oblivious of everything and everybody, Sevrin strode towards him and + seized the lapels of his coat. Under his thin bluish cheeks one could see + his jaws working with passion. + </p> + <p> + “‘You have men posted outside. Get the lady taken home at once. Do you + hear? Now. Before you try to get hold of the man upstairs.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh! There is a man upstairs,’ scoffed the other, openly. ‘Well, he shall + be brought down in time to see the end of this.’ + </p> + <p> + “But Sevrin, beside himself, took no heed of the tone. + </p> + <p> + “‘Who’s the imbecile meddler who sent you blundering here? Didn’t you + understand your instructions? Don’t you know anything? It’s incredible. + Here—’ + </p> + <p> + “He dropped the lapels of the coat and, plunging his hand into his breast, + jerked feverishly at something under his shirt. At last he produced a + small square pocket of soft leather, which must have been hanging like a + scapulary from his neck by the tape whose broken ends dangled from his + fist. + </p> + <p> + “‘Look inside,’ he spluttered, flinging it in the other’s face. And + instantly he turned round towards the girl. She stood just behind him, + perfectly still and silent. Her set, white face gave an illusion of + placidity. Only her staring eyes seemed bigger and darker. + </p> + <p> + “He spoke rapidly, with nervous assurance. I heard him distinctly promise + her to make everything as clear as daylight presently. But that was all I + caught. He stood close to her, never attempting to touch her even with the + tip of his little finger—and she stared at him stupidly. For a + moment, however, her eyelids descended slowly, pathetically, and then, + with the long black eyelashes lying on her white cheeks, she looked ready + to fall down in a swoon. But she never even swayed where she stood. He + urged her loudly to follow him at once, and walked towards the door at the + bottom of the cellar stairs without looking behind him. And, as a matter + of fact, she did move after him a pace or two. But, of course, he was not + allowed to reach the door. There were angry exclamations, a short, fierce + scuffle. Flung away violently, he came flying backwards upon her, and + fell. She threw out her arms in a gesture of dismay and stepped aside, + just clear of his head, which struck the ground heavily near her shoe. + </p> + <p> + “He grunted with the shock. By the time he had picked himself up, slowly, + dazedly, he was awake to the reality of things. The man into whose hands + he had thrust the leather case had extracted therefrom a narrow strip of + bluish paper. He held it up above his head, and, as after the scuffle an + expectant uneasy stillness reigned once more, he threw it down + disdainfully with the words, ‘I think, comrades, that this proof was + hardly necessary.’ + </p> + <p> + “Quick as thought, the girl stooped after the fluttering slip. Holding it + spread out in both hands, she looked at it; then, without raising her + eyes, opened her fingers slowly and let it fall. + </p> + <p> + “I examined that curious document afterwards. It was signed by a very high + personage, and stamped and countersigned by other high officials in + various countries of Europe. In his trade—or shall I say, in his + mission?—that sort of talisman might have been necessary, no doubt. + Even to the police itself—all but the heads—he had been known + only as Sevrin the noted anarchist. + </p> + <p> + “He hung his head, biting his lower lip. A change had come over him, a + sort of thoughtful, absorbed calmness. Nevertheless, he panted. His sides + worked visibly, and his nostrils expanded and collapsed in weird contrast + with his sombre aspect of a fanatical monk in a meditative attitude, but + with something, too, in his face of an actor intent upon the terrible + exigencies of his part. Before him Horne declaimed, haggard and bearded, + like an inspired denunciatory prophet from a wilderness. Two fanatics. + They were made to understand each other. Does this surprise you? I suppose + you think that such people would be foaming at the mouth and snarling at + each other?” + </p> + <p> + I protested hastily that I was not surprised in the least; that I thought + nothing of the kind; that anarchists in general were simply inconceivable + to me mentally, morally, logically, sentimentally, and even physically. X + received this declaration with his usual woodenness and went on. + </p> + <p> + “Horne had burst out into eloquence. While pouring out scornful invective, + he let tears escape from his eyes and roll down his black beard unheeded. + Sevrin panted quicker and quicker. When he opened his mouth to speak, + everyone hung on his words. + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t be a fool, Horne,’ he began. ‘You know very well that I have done + this for none of the reasons you are throwing at me.’ And in a moment he + became outwardly as steady as a rock under the other’s lurid stare. ‘I + have been thwarting, deceiving, and betraying you—from conviction.’ + </p> + <p> + “He turned his back on Horne, and addressing the girl, repeated the words: + ‘From conviction.’ + </p> + <p> + “It’s extraordinary how cold she looked. I suppose she could not think of + any appropriate gesture. There can have been few precedents indeed for + such a situation. + </p> + <p> + “‘Clear as daylight,’ he added. ‘Do you understand what that means? From + conviction.’ + </p> + <p> + “And still she did not stir. She did not know what to do. But the luckless + wretch was about to give her the opportunity for a beautiful and correct + gesture. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have felt in me the power to make you share this conviction,’ he + protested, ardently. He had forgotten himself; he made a step towards her—perhaps + he stumbled. To me he seemed to be stooping low as if to touch the hem of + her garment. And then the appropriate gesture came. She snatched her skirt + away from his polluting contact and averted her head with an upward tilt. + It was magnificently done, this gesture of conventionally unstained + honour, of an unblemished high-minded amateur. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could have been better. And he seemed to think so, too, for once + more he turned away. But this time he faced no one. He was again panting + frightfully, while he fumbled hurriedly in his waistcoat pocket, and then + raised his hand to his lips. There was something furtive in this movement, + but directly afterwards his bearing changed. His laboured breathing gave + him a resemblance to a man who had just run a desperate race; but a + curious air of detachment, of sudden and profound indifference, replaced + the strain of the striving effort. The race was over. I did not want to + see what would happen next. I was only too well aware. I tucked the young + lady’s arm under mine without a word, and made my way with her to the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Her brother walked behind us. Half-way up the short flight she seemed + unable to lift her feet high enough for the steps, and we had to pull and + push to get her to the top. In the passage she dragged herself along, + hanging on my arm, helplessly bent like an old woman. We issued into an + empty street through a half-open door, staggering like besotted revellers. + At the corner we stopped a four-wheeler, and the ancient driver looked + round from his box with morose scorn at our efforts to get her in. Twice + during the drive I felt her collapse on my shoulder in a half faint. + Facing us, the youth in knickerbockers remained as mute as a fish, and, + till he jumped out with the latch-key, sat more still than I would have + believed it possible. + </p> + <p> + “At the door of their drawing-room she left my arm and walked in first, + catching at the chairs and tables. She unpinned her hat, then, exhausted + with the effort, her cloak still hanging from her shoulders, flung herself + into a deep armchair, sideways, her face half buried in a cushion. The + good brother appeared silently before her with a glass of water. She + motioned it away. He drank it himself and walked off to a distant corner—behind + the grand piano, somewhere. All was still in this room where I had seen, + for the first time, Sevrin, the anti-anarchist, captivated and spellbound + by the consummate and hereditary grimaces that in a certain sphere of life + take the place of feelings with an excellent effect. I suppose her + thoughts were busy with the same memory. Her shoulders shook violently. A + pure attack of nerves. When it quieted down she affected firmness, ‘What + is done to a man of that sort? What will they do to him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Nothing. They can do nothing to him,’ I assured her, with perfect truth. + I was pretty certain he had died in less than twenty minutes from the + moment his hand had gone to his lips. For if his fanatical anti-anarchism + went even as far as carrying poison in his pocket, only to rob his + adversaries of legitimate vengeance, I knew he would take care to provide + something that would not fail him when required. + </p> + <p> + “She drew an angry breath. There were red spots on her cheeks and a + feverish brilliance in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘Has ever any one been exposed to such a terrible experience? To think + that he had held my hand! That man!’ Her face twitched, she gulped down a + pathetic sob. ‘If I ever felt sure of anything, it was of Sevrin’s + high-minded motives.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then she began to weep quietly, which was good for her. Then through her + flood of tears, half resentful, ‘What was it he said to me?—“From + conviction!” It seemed a vile mockery. What could he mean by it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That, my dear young lady,’ I said, gently, ‘is more than I or anybody + else can ever explain to you.’” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X flicked a crumb off the front of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “And that was strictly true as to her. Though Horne, for instance, + understood very well; and so did I, especially after we had been to + Sevrin’s lodging in a dismal back street of an intensely respectable + quarter. Horne was known there as a friend, and we had no difficulty in + being admitted, the slatternly maid merely remarking, as she let us in, + that ‘Mr Sevrin had not been home that night.’ We forced open a couple of + drawers in the way of duty, and found a little useful information. The + most interesting part was his diary; for this man, engaged in such deadly + work, had the weakness to keep a record of the most damnatory kind. There + were his acts and also his thoughts laid bare to us. But the dead don’t + mind that. They don’t mind anything. + </p> + <p> + “‘From conviction.’ Yes. A vague but ardent humanitarianism had urged him + in his first youth into the bitterest extremity of negation and revolt. + Afterwards his optimism flinched. He doubted and became lost. You have + heard of converted atheists. These turn often into dangerous fanatics, but + the soul remains the same. After he had got acquainted with the girl, + there are to be met in that diary of his very queer politico-amorous + rhapsodies. He took her sovereign grimaces with deadly seriousness. He + longed to convert her. But all this cannot interest you. For the rest, I + don’t know if you remember—it is a good many years ago now—the + journalistic sensation of the ‘Hermione Street Mystery’; the finding of a + man’s body in the cellar of an empty house; the inquest; some arrests; + many surmises—then silence—the usual end for many obscure + martyrs and confessors. The fact is, he was not enough of an optimist. You + must be a savage, tyrannical, pitiless, thick-and-thin optimist, like + Horne, for instance, to make a good social rebel of the extreme type. + </p> + <p> + “He rose from the table. A waiter hurried up with his overcoat; another + held his hat in readiness. + </p> + <p> + “But what became of the young lady?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really want to know?” he said, buttoning himself in his fur coat + carefully. “I confess to the small malice of sending her Sevrin’s diary. + She went into retirement; then she went to Florence; then she went into + retreat in a convent. I can’t tell where she will go next. What does it + matter? Gestures! Gestures! Mere gestures of her class.” + </p> + <p> + “He fitted on his glossy high hat with extreme precision, and casting a + rapid glance round the room, full of well-dressed people, innocently + dining, muttered between his teeth: + </p> + <p> + “And nothing else! That is why their kind is fated to perish.” + </p> + <p> + “I never met Mr. X again after that evening. I took to dining at my club. + On my next visit to Paris I found my friend all impatience to hear of the + effect produced on me by this rare item of his collection. I told him all + the story, and he beamed on me with the pride of his distinguished + specimen. + </p> + <p> + “‘Isn’t X well worth knowing?’ he bubbled over in great delight. ‘He’s + unique, amazing, absolutely terrific.’ + </p> + <p> + “His enthusiasm grated upon my finer feelings. I told him curtly that the + man’s cynicism was simply abominable. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, abominable! abominable!’ assented my friend, effusively. ‘And then, + you know, he likes to have his little joke sometimes,’ he added in a + confidential tone. + </p> + <p> + “I fail to understand the connection of this last remark. I have been + utterly unable to discover where in all this the joke comes in.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BRUTE + </h2> + <h3> + AN INDIGNANT TALE + </h3> + <p> + Dodging in from the rain-swept street, I exchanged a smile and a glance + with Miss Blank in the bar of the Three Crows. This exchange was effected + with extreme propriety. It is a shock to think that, if still alive, Miss + Blank must be something over sixty now. How time passes! + </p> + <p> + Noticing my gaze directed inquiringly at the partition of glass and + varnished wood, Miss Blank was good enough to say, encouragingly: + </p> + <p> + “Only Mr. Jermyn and Mr. Stonor in the parlour with another gentleman I’ve + never seen before.” + </p> + <p> + I moved towards the parlour door. A voice discoursing on the other side + (it was but a matchboard partition), rose so loudly that the concluding + words became quite plain in all their atrocity. + </p> + <p> + “That fellow Wilmot fairly dashed her brains out, and a good job, too!” + </p> + <p> + This inhuman sentiment, since there was nothing profane or improper in it, + failed to do as much as to check the slight yawn Miss Blank was achieving + behind her hand. And she remained gazing fixedly at the window-panes, + which streamed with rain. + </p> + <p> + As I opened the parlour door the same voice went on in the same cruel + strain: + </p> + <p> + “I was glad when I heard she got the knock from somebody at last. Sorry + enough for poor Wilmot, though. That man and I used to be chums at one + time. Of course that was the end of him. A clear case if there ever was + one. No way out of it. None at all.” + </p> + <p> + The voice belonged to the gentleman Miss Blank had never seen before. He + straddled his long legs on the hearthrug. Jermyn, leaning forward, held + his pocket-handkerchief spread out before the grate. He looked back + dismally over his shoulder, and as I slipped behind one of the little + wooden tables, I nodded to him. On the other side of the fire, imposingly + calm and large, sat Mr. Stonor, jammed tight into a capacious Windsor + armchair. There was nothing small about him but his short, white + side-whiskers. Yards and yards of extra superfine blue cloth (made up into + an overcoat) reposed on a chair by his side. And he must just have brought + some liner from sea, because another chair was smothered under his black + waterproof, ample as a pall, and made of three-fold oiled silk, + double-stitched throughout. A man’s hand-bag of the usual size looked like + a child’s toy on the floor near his feet. + </p> + <p> + I did not nod to him. He was too big to be nodded to in that parlour. He + was a senior Trinity pilot and condescended to take his turn in the cutter + only during the summer months. He had been many times in charge of royal + yachts in and out of Port Victoria. Besides, it’s no use nodding to a + monument. And he was like one. He didn’t speak, he didn’t budge. He just + sat there, holding his handsome old head up, immovable, and almost bigger + than life. It was extremely fine. Mr. Stonor’s presence reduced poor old + Jermyn to a mere shabby wisp of a man, and made the talkative stranger in + tweeds on the hearthrug look absurdly boyish. The latter must have been a + few years over thirty, and was certainly not the sort of individual that + gets abashed at the sound of his own voice, because gathering me in, as it + were, by a friendly glance, he kept it going without a check. + </p> + <p> + “I was glad of it,” he repeated, emphatically. “You may be surprised at + it, but then you haven’t gone through the experience I’ve had of her. I + can tell you, it was something to remember. Of course, I got off scot free + myself—as you can see. She did her best to break up my pluck for me + tho’. She jolly near drove as fine a fellow as ever lived into a madhouse. + What do you say to that—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Not an eyelid twitched in Mr. Stonor’s enormous face. Monumental! The + speaker looked straight into my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It used to make me sick to think of her going about the world murdering + people.” + </p> + <p> + Jermyn approached the handkerchief a little nearer to the grate and + groaned. It was simply a habit he had. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve seen her once,” he declared, with mournful indifference. “She had a + house—” + </p> + <p> + The stranger in tweeds turned to stare down at him, surprised. + </p> + <p> + “She had three houses,” he corrected, authoritatively. But Jermyn was not + to be contradicted. + </p> + <p> + “She had a house, I say,” he repeated, with dismal obstinacy. “A great, + big, ugly, white thing. You could see it from miles away—sticking + up.” + </p> + <p> + “So you could,” assented the other readily. “It was old Colchester’s + notion, though he was always threatening to give her up. He couldn’t stand + her racket any more, he declared; it was too much of a good thing for him; + he would wash his hands of her, if he never got hold of another—and + so on. I daresay he would have chucked her, only—it may surprise you—his + missus wouldn’t hear of it. Funny, eh? But with women, you never know how + they will take a thing, and Mrs. Colchester, with her moustaches and big + eyebrows, set up for being as strong-minded as they make them. She used to + walk about in a brown silk dress, with a great gold cable flopping about + her bosom. You should have heard her snapping out: ‘Rubbish!’ or ‘Stuff + and nonsense!’ I daresay she knew when she was well off. They had no + children, and had never set up a home anywhere. When in England she just + made shift to hang out anyhow in some cheap hotel or boarding-house. I + daresay she liked to get back to the comforts she was used to. She knew + very well she couldn’t gain by any change. And, moreover, Colchester, + though a first-rate man, was not what you may call in his first youth, + and, perhaps, she may have thought that he wouldn’t be able to get hold of + another (as he used to say) so easily. Anyhow, for one reason or another, + it was ‘Rubbish’ and ‘Stuff and nonsense’ for the good lady. I overheard + once young Mr. Apse himself say to her confidentially: ‘I assure you, Mrs. + Colchester, I am beginning to feel quite unhappy about the name she’s + getting for herself.’ ‘Oh,’ says she, with her deep little hoarse laugh, + ‘if one took notice of all the silly talk,’ and she showed Apse all her + ugly false teeth at once. ‘It would take more than that to make me lose my + confidence in her, I assure you,’ says she.” + </p> + <p> + At this point, without any change of facial expression, Mr. Stonor emitted + a short, sardonic laugh. It was very impressive, but I didn’t see the fun. + I looked from one to another. The stranger on the hearthrug had an ugly + smile. + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Apse shook both Mrs. Colchester’s hands, he was so pleased to + hear a good word said for their favourite. All these Apses, young and old + you know, were perfectly infatuated with that abominable, dangerous—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” I interrupted, for he seemed to be addressing himself + exclusively to me; “but who on earth are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + “I am talking of the Apse family,” he answered, courteously. + </p> + <p> + I nearly let out a damn at this. But just then the respected Miss Blank + put her head in, and said that the cab was at the door, if Mr. Stonor + wanted to catch the eleven three up. + </p> + <p> + At once the senior pilot arose in his mighty bulk and began to struggle + into his coat, with awe-inspiring upheavals. The stranger and I hurried + impulsively to his assistance, and directly we laid our hands on him he + became perfectly quiescent. We had to raise our arms very high, and to + make efforts. It was like caparisoning a docile elephant. With a “Thanks, + gentlemen,” he dived under and squeezed himself through the door in a + great hurry. + </p> + <p> + We smiled at each other in a friendly way. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how he manages to hoist himself up a ship’s side-ladder,” said + the man in tweeds; and poor Jermyn, who was a mere North Sea pilot, + without official status or recognition of any sort, pilot only by + courtesy, groaned. + </p> + <p> + “He makes eight hundred a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a sailor?” I asked the stranger, who had gone back to his + position on the rug. + </p> + <p> + “I used to be till a couple of years ago, when I got married,” answered + this communicative individual. “I even went to sea first in that very ship + we were speaking of when you came in.” + </p> + <p> + “What ship?” I asked, puzzled. “I never heard you mention a ship.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve just told you her name, my dear sir,” he replied. “The Apse Family. + Surely you’ve heard of the great firm of Apse & Sons, shipowners. They + had a pretty big fleet. There was the Lucy Apse, and the Harold Apse, and + Anne, John, Malcolm, Clara, Juliet, and so on—no end of Apses. Every + brother, sister, aunt, cousin, wife—and grandmother, too, for all I + know—of the firm had a ship named after them. Good, solid, + old-fashioned craft they were, too, built to carry and to last. None of + your new-fangled, labour-saving appliances in them, but plenty of men and + plenty of good salt beef and hard tack put aboard—and off you go to + fight your way out and home again.” + </p> + <p> + The miserable Jermyn made a sound of approval, which sounded like a groan + of pain. Those were the ships for him. He pointed out in doleful tones + that you couldn’t say to labour-saving appliances: “Jump lively now, my + hearties.” No labour-saving appliance would go aloft on a dirty night with + the sands under your lee. + </p> + <p> + “No,” assented the stranger, with a wink at me. “The Apses didn’t believe + in them either, apparently. They treated their people well—as people + don’t get treated nowadays, and they were awfully proud of their ships. + Nothing ever happened to them. This last one, the Apse Family, was to be + like the others, only she was to be still stronger, still safer, still + more roomy and comfortable. I believe they meant her to last for ever. + They had her built composite—iron, teak-wood, and greenheart, and + her scantling was something fabulous. If ever an order was given for a + ship in a spirit of pride this one was. Everything of the best. The + commodore captain of the employ was to command her, and they planned the + accommodation for him like a house on shore under a big, tall poop that + went nearly to the mainmast. No wonder Mrs. Colchester wouldn’t let the + old man give her up. Why, it was the best home she ever had in all her + married days. She had a nerve, that woman. + </p> + <p> + “The fuss that was made while that ship was building! Let’s have this a + little stronger, and that a little heavier; and hadn’t that other thing + better be changed for something a little thicker. The builders entered + into the spirit of the game, and there she was, growing into the + clumsiest, heaviest ship of her size right before all their eyes, without + anybody becoming aware of it somehow. She was to be 2,000 tons register, + or a little over; no less on any account. But see what happens. When they + came to measure her she turned out 1,999 tons and a fraction. General + consternation! And they say old Mr. Apse was so annoyed when they told him + that he took to his bed and died. The old gentleman had retired from the + firm twenty-five years before, and was ninety-six years old if a day, so + his death wasn’t, perhaps, so surprising. Still Mr. Lucian Apse was + convinced that his father would have lived to a hundred. So we may put him + at the head of the list. Next comes the poor devil of a shipwright that + brute caught and squashed as she went off the ways. They called it the + launch of a ship, but I’ve heard people say that, from the wailing and + yelling and scrambling out of the way, it was more like letting a devil + loose upon the river. She snapped all her checks like pack-thread, and + went for the tugs in attendance like a fury. Before anybody could see what + she was up to she sent one of them to the bottom, and laid up another for + three months’ repairs. One of her cables parted, and then, suddenly—you + couldn’t tell why—she let herself be brought up with the other as + quiet as a lamb. + </p> + <p> + “That’s how she was. You could never be sure what she would be up to next. + There are ships difficult to handle, but generally you can depend on them + behaving rationally. With that ship, whatever you did with her you never + knew how it would end. She was a wicked beast. Or, perhaps, she was only + just insane.” + </p> + <p> + He uttered this supposition in so earnest a tone that I could not refrain + from smiling. He left off biting his lower lip to apostrophize me. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! Why not? Why couldn’t there be something in her build, in her lines + corresponding to—What’s madness? Only something just a tiny bit + wrong in the make of your brain. Why shouldn’t there be a mad ship—I + mean mad in a ship-like way, so that under no circumstances could you be + sure she would do what any other sensible ship would naturally do for you. + There are ships that steer wildly, and ships that can’t be quite trusted + always to stay; others want careful watching when running in a gale; and, + again, there may be a ship that will make heavy weather of it in every + little blow. But then you expect her to be always so. You take it as part + of her character, as a ship, just as you take account of a man’s + peculiarities of temper when you deal with him. But with her you couldn’t. + She was unaccountable. If she wasn’t mad, then she was the most + evil-minded, underhand, savage brute that ever went afloat. I’ve seen her + run in a heavy gale beautifully for two days, and on the third broach to + twice in the same afternoon. The first time she flung the helmsman clean + over the wheel, but as she didn’t quite manage to kill him she had another + try about three hours afterwards. She swamped herself fore and aft, burst + all the canvas we had set, scared all hands into a panic, and even + frightened Mrs. Colchester down there in these beautiful stern cabins that + she was so proud of. When we mustered the crew there was one man missing. + Swept overboard, of course, without being either seen or heard, poor + devil! and I only wonder more of us didn’t go. + </p> + <p> + “Always something like that. Always. I heard an old mate tell Captain + Colchester once that it had come to this with him, that he was afraid to + open his mouth to give any sort of order. She was as much of a terror in + harbour as at sea. You could never be certain what would hold her. On the + slightest provocation she would start snapping ropes, cables, wire + hawsers, like carrots. She was heavy, clumsy, unhandy—but that does + not quite explain that power for mischief she had. You know, somehow, when + I think of her I can’t help remembering what we hear of incurable lunatics + breaking loose now and then.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me inquisitively. But, of course, I couldn’t admit that a + ship could be mad. + </p> + <p> + “In the ports where she was known,” he went on,’ “they dreaded the sight + of her. She thought nothing of knocking away twenty feet or so of solid + stone facing off a quay or wiping off the end of a wooden wharf. She must + have lost miles of chain and hundreds of tons of anchors in her time. When + she fell aboard some poor unoffending ship it was the very devil of a job + to haul her off again. And she never got hurt herself—just a few + scratches or so, perhaps. They had wanted to have her strong. And so she + was. Strong enough to ram Polar ice with. And as she began so she went on. + From the day she was launched she never let a year pass without murdering + somebody. I think the owners got very worried about it. But they were a + stiff-necked generation all these Apses; they wouldn’t admit there could + be anything wrong with the Apse Family. They wouldn’t even change her + name. ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ as Mrs. Colchester used to say. They ought at + least to have shut her up for life in some dry dock or other, away up the + river, and never let her smell salt water again. I assure you, my dear + sir, that she invariably did kill someone every voyage she made. It was + perfectly well-known. She got a name for it, far and wide.” + </p> + <p> + I expressed my surprise that a ship with such a deadly reputation could + ever get a crew. + </p> + <p> + “Then, you don’t know what sailors are, my dear sir. Let me just show you + by an instance. One day in dock at home, while loafing on the forecastle + head, I noticed two respectable salts come along, one a middle-aged, + competent, steady man, evidently, the other a smart, youngish chap. They + read the name on the bows and stopped to look at her. Says the elder man: + ‘Apse Family. That’s the sanguinary female dog’ (I’m putting it in that + way) ‘of a ship, Jack, that kills a man every voyage. I wouldn’t sign in + her—not for Joe, I wouldn’t.’ And the other says: ‘If she were mine, + I’d have her towed on the mud and set on fire, blame if I wouldn’t.’ Then + the first man chimes in: ‘Much do they care! Men are cheap, God knows.’ + The younger one spat in the water alongside. ‘They won’t have me—not + for double wages.’ + </p> + <p> + “They hung about for some time and then walked up the dock. Half an hour + later I saw them both on our deck looking about for the mate, and + apparently very anxious to be taken on. And they were.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you account for this?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “What would you say?” he retorted. “Recklessness! The vanity of boasting + in the evening to all their chums: ‘We’ve just shipped in that there Apse + Family. Blow her. She ain’t going to scare us.’ Sheer sailorlike + perversity! A sort of curiosity. Well—a little of all that, no + doubt. I put the question to them in the course of the voyage. The answer + of the elderly chap was: + </p> + <p> + “‘A man can die but once.’ The younger assured me in a mocking tone that + he wanted to see ‘how she would do it this time.’ But I tell you what; + there was a sort of fascination about the brute.” + </p> + <p> + Jermyn, who seemed to have seen every ship in the world, broke in sulkily: + </p> + <p> + “I saw her once out of this very window towing up the river; a great black + ugly thing, going along like a big hearse.” + </p> + <p> + “Something sinister about her looks, wasn’t there?” said the man in + tweeds, looking down at old Jermyn with a friendly eye. “I always had a + sort of horror of her. She gave me a beastly shock when I was no more than + fourteen, the very first day—nay, hour—I joined her. Father + came up to see me off, and was to go down to Gravesend with us. I was his + second boy to go to sea. My big brother was already an officer then. We. + got on board about eleven in the morning, and found the ship ready to drop + out of the basin, stern first. She had not moved three times her own + length when, at a little pluck the tug gave her to enter the dock gates, + she made one of her rampaging starts, and put such a weight on the check + rope—a new six-inch hawser—that forward there they had no + chance to ease it round in time, and it parted. I saw the broken end fly + up high in the air, and the next moment that brute brought her quarter + against the pier-head with a jar that staggered everybody about her decks. + She didn’t hurt herself. Not she! But one of the boys the mate had sent + aloft on the mizzen to do something, came down on the poop-deck—thump—right + in front of me. He was not much older than myself. We had been grinning at + each other only a few minutes before. He must have been handling himself + carelessly, not expecting to get such a jerk. I heard his startled cry—Oh!—in + a high treble as he felt himself going, and looked up in time to see him + go limp all over as he fell. Ough! Poor father was remarkably white about + the gills when we shook hands in Gravesend. ‘Are you all right?’ he says, + looking hard at me. ‘Yes, father.’ ‘Quite sure?’ ‘Yes, father.’ ‘Well, + then good-bye, my boy.’ He told me afterwards that for half a word he + would have carried me off home with him there and then. I am the baby of + the family—you know,” added the man in tweeds, stroking his + moustache with an ingenuous smile. + </p> + <p> + I acknowledged this interesting communication by a sympathetic murmur. He + waved his hand carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “This might have utterly spoiled a chap’s nerve for going aloft, you know—utterly. + He fell within two feet of me, cracking his head on a mooring-bitt. Never + moved. Stone dead. Nice looking little fellow, he was. I had just been + thinking we would be great chums. However, that wasn’t yet the worst that + brute of a ship could do. I served in her three years of my time, and then + I got transferred to the Lucy Apse, for a year. The sailmaker we had in + the Apse Family turned up there, too, and I remember him saying to me one + evening, after we had been a week at sea: Isn’t she a meek little ship?’ + No wonder we thought the Lucy Apse a dear, meek, little ship after getting + clear of that big, rampaging savage brute. It was like heaven. Her + officers seemed to me the restfullest lot of men on earth. To me who had + known no ship but the Apse Family, the Lucy was like a sort of magic craft + that did what you wanted her to do of her own accord. One evening we got + caught aback pretty sharply from right ahead. In about ten minutes we had + her full again, sheets aft, tacks down, decks cleared, and the officer of + the watch leaning against the weather rail peacefully. It seemed simply + marvellous to me. The other would have stuck for half-an-hour in irons, + rolling her decks full of water, knocking the men about—spars + cracking, braces snapping, yards taking charge, and a confounded scare + going on aft because of her beastly rudder, which she had a way of + flapping about fit to raise your hair on end. I couldn’t get over my + wonder for days. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I finished my last year of apprenticeship in that jolly little ship—she + wasn’t so little either, but after that other heavy devil she seemed but a + plaything to handle. I finished my time and passed; and then just as I was + thinking of having three weeks of real good time on shore I got at + breakfast a letter asking me the earliest day I could be ready to join the + Apse Family as third mate. I gave my plate a shove that shot it into the + middle of the table; dad looked up over his paper; mother raised her hands + in astonishment, and I went out bare-headed into our bit of garden, where + I walked round and round for an hour. + </p> + <p> + “When I came in again mother was out of the dining-room, and dad had + shifted berth into his big armchair. The letter was lying on the + mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s very creditable to you to get the offer, and very kind of them to + make it,’ he said. ‘And I see also that Charles has been appointed chief + mate of that ship for one voyage.’ + </p> + <p> + “There was, over leaf, a P.S. to that effect in Mr. Apse’s own + handwriting, which I had overlooked. Charley was my big brother. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like very much to have two of my boys together in one ship,’ + father goes on, in his deliberate, solemn way. ‘And I may tell you that I + would not mind writing Mr. Apse a letter to that effect.’ + </p> + <p> + “Dear old dad! He was a wonderful father. What would you have done? The + mere notion of going back (and as an officer, too), to be worried and + bothered, and kept on the jump night and day by that brute, made me feel + sick. But she wasn’t a ship you could afford to fight shy of. Besides, the + most genuine excuse could not be given without mortally offending Apse + & Sons. The firm, and I believe the whole family down to the old + unmarried aunts in Lancashire, had grown desperately touchy about that + accursed ship’s character. This was the case for answering ‘Ready now’ + from your very death-bed if you wished to die in their good graces. And + that’s precisely what I did answer—by wire, to have it over and done + with at once. + </p> + <p> + “The prospect of being shipmates with my big brother cheered me up + considerably, though it made me a bit anxious, too. Ever since I remember + myself as a little chap he had been very good to me, and I looked upon him + as the finest fellow in the world. And so he was. No better officer ever + walked the deck of a merchant ship. And that’s a fact. He was a fine, + strong, upstanding, sun-tanned, young fellow, with his brown hair curling + a little, and an eye like a hawk. He was just splendid. We hadn’t seen + each other for many years, and even this time, though he had been in + England three weeks already, he hadn’t showed up at home yet, but had + spent his spare time in Surrey somewhere making up to Maggie Colchester, + old Captain Colchester’s niece. Her father, a great friend of dad’s, was + in the sugar-broking business, and Charley made a sort of second home of + their house. I wondered what my big brother would think of me. There was a + sort of sternness about Charley’s face which never left it, not even when + he was larking in his rather wild fashion. + </p> + <p> + “He received me with a great shout of laughter. He seemed to think my + joining as an officer the greatest joke in the world. There was a + difference of ten years between us, and I suppose he remembered me best in + pinafores. I was a kid of four when he first went to sea. It surprised me + to find how boisterous he could be. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now we shall see what you are made of,’ he cried. And he held me off by + the shoulders, and punched my ribs, and hustled me into his berth. ‘Sit + down, Ned. I am glad of the chance of having you with me. I’ll put the + finishing touch to you, my young officer, providing you’re worth the + trouble. And, first of all, get it well into your head that we are not + going to let this brute kill anybody this voyage. We’ll stop her racket.’ + </p> + <p> + “I perceived he was in dead earnest about it. He talked grimly of the + ship, and how we must be careful and never allow this ugly beast to catch + us napping with any of her damned tricks. + </p> + <p> + “He gave me a regular lecture on special seamanship for the use of the + Apse Family; then changing his tone, he began to talk at large, rattling + off the wildest, funniest nonsense, till my sides ached with laughing. I + could see very well he was a bit above himself with high spirits. It + couldn’t be because of my coming. Not to that extent. But, of course, I + wouldn’t have dreamt of asking what was the matter. I had a proper respect + for my big brother, I can tell you. But it was all made plain enough a day + or two afterwards, when I heard that Miss Maggie Colchester was coming for + the voyage. Uncle was giving her a sea-trip for the benefit of her health. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what could have been wrong with her health. She had a + beautiful colour, and a deuce of a lot of fair hair. She didn’t care a rap + for wind, or rain, or spray, or sun, or green seas, or anything. She was a + blue-eyed, jolly girl of the very best sort, but the way she cheeked my + big brother used to frighten me. I always expected it to end in an awful + row. However, nothing decisive happened till after we had been in Sydney + for a week. One day, in the men’s dinner hour, Charley sticks his head + into my cabin. I was stretched out on my back on the settee, smoking in + peace. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come ashore with me, Ned,’ he says, in his curt way. + </p> + <p> + “I jumped up, of course, and away after him down the gangway and up George + Street. He strode along like a giant, and I at his elbow, panting. It was + confoundedly hot. ‘Where on earth are you rushing me to, Charley?’ I made + bold to ask. + </p> + <p> + “‘Here,’ he says. + </p> + <p> + “‘Here’ was a jeweller’s shop. I couldn’t imagine what he could want + there. It seemed a sort of mad freak. He thrusts under my nose three + rings, which looked very tiny on his big, brown palm, growling out— + </p> + <p> + “‘For Maggie! Which?’ + </p> + <p> + “I got a kind of scare at this. I couldn’t make a sound, but I pointed at + the one that sparkled white and blue. He put it in his waistcoat pocket, + paid for it with a lot of sovereigns, and bolted out. When we got on board + I was quite out of breath. ‘Shake hands, old chap,’ I gasped out. He gave + me a thump on the back. ‘Give what orders you like to the boatswain when + the hands turn-to,’ says he; ‘I am off duty this afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then he vanished from the deck for a while, but presently he came out of + the cabin with Maggie, and these two went over the gangway publicly, + before all hands, going for a walk together on that awful, blazing hot + day, with clouds of dust flying about. They came back after a few hours + looking very staid, but didn’t seem to have the slightest idea where they + had been. Anyway, that’s the answer they both made to Mrs. Colchester’s + question at tea-time. + </p> + <p> + “And didn’t she turn on Charley, with her voice like an old night + cabman’s! ‘Rubbish. Don’t know where you’ve been! Stuff and nonsense. + You’ve walked the girl off her legs. Don’t do it again.’ + </p> + <p> + “It’s surprising how meek Charley could be with that old woman. Only on + one occasion he whispered to me, ‘I’m jolly glad she isn’t Maggie’s aunt, + except by marriage. That’s no sort of relationship.’ But I think he let + Maggie have too much of her own way. She was hopping all over that ship in + her yachting skirt and a red tam o’ shanter like a bright bird on a dead + black tree. The old salts used to grin to themselves when they saw her + coming along, and offered to teach her knots or splices. I believe she + liked the men, for Charley’s sake, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + “As you may imagine, the fiendish propensities of that cursed ship were + never spoken of on board. Not in the cabin, at any rate. Only once on the + homeward passage Charley said, incautiously, something about bringing all + her crew home this time. Captain Colchester began to look uncomfortable at + once, and that silly, hard-bitten old woman flew out at Charley as though + he had said something indecent. I was quite confounded myself; as to + Maggie, she sat completely mystified, opening her blue eyes very wide. Of + course, before she was a day older she wormed it all out of me. She was a + very difficult person to lie to. + </p> + <p> + “‘How awful,’ she said, quite solemn. ‘So many poor fellows. I am glad the + voyage is nearly over. I won’t have a moment’s peace about Charley now.’ + </p> + <p> + “I assured her Charley was all right. It took more than that ship knew to + get over a seaman like Charley. And she agreed with me. + </p> + <p> + “Next day we got the tug off Dungeness; and when the tow-rope was fast + Charley rubbed his hands and said to me in an undertone— + </p> + <p> + “‘We’ve baffled her, Ned.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Looks like it,’ I said, with a grin at him. It was beautiful weather, + and the sea as smooth as a millpond. We went up the river without a shadow + of trouble except once, when off Hole Haven, the brute took a sudden sheer + and nearly had a barge anchored just clear of the fairway. But I was aft, + looking after the steering, and she did not catch me napping that time. + Charley came up on the poop, looking very concerned. ‘Close shave,’ says + he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Never mind, Charley,’ I answered, cheerily. ‘You’ve tamed her.’ + </p> + <p> + “We were to tow right up to the dock. The river pilot boarded us below + Gravesend, and the first words I heard him say were: ‘You may just as well + take your port anchor inboard at once, Mr. Mate.’ + </p> + <p> + “This had been done when I went forward. I saw Maggie on the forecastle + head enjoying the bustle and I begged her to go aft, but she took no + notice of me, of course. Then Charley, who was very busy with the head + gear, caught sight of her and shouted in his biggest voice: ‘Get off the + forecastle head, Maggie. You’re in the way here.’ For all answer she made + a funny face at him, and I saw poor Charley turn away, hiding a smile. She + was flushed with the excitement of getting home again, and her blue eyes + seemed to snap electric sparks as she looked at the river. A collier brig + had gone round just ahead of us, and our tug had to stop her engines in a + hurry to avoid running into her. + </p> + <p> + “In a moment, as is usually the case, all the shipping in the reach seemed + to get into a hopeless tangle. A schooner and a ketch got up a small + collision all to themselves right in the middle of the river. It was + exciting to watch, and, meantime, our tug remained stopped. Any other ship + than that brute could have been coaxed to keep straight for a couple of + minutes—but not she! Her head fell off at once, and she began to + drift down, taking her tug along with her. I noticed a cluster of coasters + at anchor within a quarter of a mile of us, and I thought I had better + speak to the pilot. ‘If you let her get amongst that lot,’ I said, + quietly, ‘she will grind some of them to bits before we get her out + again.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t I know her!’ cries he, stamping his foot in a perfect fury. And he + out with his whistle to make that bothered tug get the ship’s head up + again as quick as possible. He blew like mad, waving his arm to port, and + presently we could see that the tug’s engines had been set going ahead. + Her paddles churned the water, but it was as if she had been trying to tow + a rock—she couldn’t get an inch out of that ship. Again the pilot + blew his whistle, and waved his arm to port. We could see the tug’s + paddles turning faster and faster away, broad on our bow. + </p> + <p> + “For a moment tug and ship hung motionless in a crowd of moving shipping, + and then the terrific strain that evil, stony-hearted brute would always + put on everything, tore the towing-chock clean out. The tow-rope surged + over, snapping the iron stanchions of the head-rail one after another as + if they had been sticks of sealing-wax. It was only then I noticed that in + order to have a better view over our heads, Maggie had stepped upon the + port anchor as it lay flat on the forecastle deck. + </p> + <p> + “It had been lowered properly into its hardwood beds, but there had been + no time to take a turn with it. Anyway, it was quite secure as it was, for + going into dock; but I could see directly that the tow-rope would sweep + under the fluke in another second. My heart flew up right into my throat, + but not before I had time to yell out: ‘Jump clear of that anchor!’ + </p> + <p> + “But I hadn’t time to shriek out her name. I don’t suppose she heard me at + all. The first touch of the hawser against the fluke threw her down; she + was up on her feet again quick as lightning, but she was up on the wrong + side. I heard a horrid, scraping sound, and then that anchor, tipping + over, rose up like something alive; its great, rough iron arm caught + Maggie round the waist, seemed to clasp her close with a dreadful hug, and + flung itself with her over and down in a terrific clang of iron, followed + by heavy ringing blows that shook the ship from stem to stern—because + the ring stopper held!” + </p> + <p> + “How horrible!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I used to dream for years afterwards of anchors catching hold of girls,” + said the man in tweeds, a little wildly. He shuddered. “With a most + pitiful howl Charley was over after her almost on the instant. But, Lord! + he didn’t see as much as a gleam of her red tam o’ shanter in the water. + Nothing! nothing whatever! In a moment there were half-a-dozen boats + around us, and he got pulled into one. I, with the boatswain and the + carpenter, let go the other anchor in a hurry and brought the ship up + somehow. The pilot had gone silly. He walked up and down the forecastle + head wringing his hands and muttering to himself: ‘Killing women, now! + Killing women, now!’ Not another word could you get out of him. + </p> + <p> + “Dusk fell, then a night black as pitch; and peering upon the river I + heard a low, mournful hail, ‘Ship, ahoy!’ Two Gravesend watermen came + alongside. They had a lantern in their wherry, and looked up the ship’s + side, holding on to the ladder without a word. I saw in the patch of light + a lot of loose, fair hair down there.” + </p> + <p> + He shuddered again. + </p> + <p> + “After the tide turned poor Maggie’s body had floated clear of one of them + big mooring buoys,” he explained. “I crept aft, feeling half-dead, and + managed to send a rocket up—to let the other searchers know, on the + river. And then I slunk away forward like a cur, and spent the night + sitting on the heel of the bowsprit so as to be as far as possible out of + Charley’s way.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” I murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Poor fellow,” he repeated, musingly. “That brute wouldn’t let him—not + even him—cheat her of her prey. But he made her fast in dock next + morning. He did. We hadn’t exchanged a word—not a single look for + that matter. I didn’t want to look at him. When the last rope was fast he + put his hands to his head and stood gazing down at his feet as if trying + to remember something. The men waited on the main deck for the words that + end the voyage. Perhaps that is what he was trying to remember. I spoke + for him. ‘That’ll do, men.’ + </p> + <p> + “I never saw a crew leave a ship so quietly. They sneaked over the rail + one after another, taking care not to bang their sea chests too heavily. + They looked our way, but not one had the stomach to come up and offer to + shake hands with the mate as is usual. + </p> + <p> + “I followed him all over the empty ship to and fro, here and there, with + no living soul about but the two of us, because the old ship-keeper had + locked himself up in the galley—both doors. Suddenly poor Charley + mutters, in a crazy voice: ‘I’m done here,’ and strides down the gangway + with me at his heels, up the dock, out at the gate, on towards Tower Hill. + He used to take rooms with a decent old landlady in America Square, to be + near his work. + </p> + <p> + “All at once he stops short, turns round, and comes back straight at me. + ‘Ned,’ says he, I am going home.’ I had the good luck to sight a + four-wheeler and got him in just in time. His legs were beginning to give + way. In our hall he fell down on a chair, and I’ll never forget father’s + and mother’s amazed, perfectly still faces as they stood over him. They + couldn’t understand what had happened to him till I blubbered out, ‘Maggie + got drowned, yesterday, in the river.’ + </p> + <p> + “Mother let out a little cry. Father looks from him to me, and from me to + him, as if comparing our faces—for, upon my soul, Charley did not + resemble himself at all. Nobody moved; and the poor fellow raises his big + brown hands slowly to his throat, and with one single tug rips everything + open—collar, shirt, waistcoat—a perfect wreck and ruin of a + man. Father and I got him upstairs somehow, and mother pretty nearly + killed herself nursing him through a brain fever.” + </p> + <p> + The man in tweeds nodded at me significantly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there was nothing that could be done with that brute. She had a devil + in her.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s your brother?” I asked, expecting to hear he was dead. But he was + commanding a smart steamer on the China coast, and never came home now. + </p> + <p> + Jermyn fetched a heavy sigh, and the handkerchief being now sufficiently + dry, put it up tenderly to his red and lamentable nose. + </p> + <p> + “She was a ravening beast,” the man in tweeds started again. “Old + Colchester put his foot down and resigned. And would you believe it? Apse + & Sons wrote to ask whether he wouldn’t reconsider his decision! + Anything to save the good name of the Apse Family.’ Old Colchester went to + the office then and said that he would take charge again but only to sail + her out into the North Sea and scuttle her there. He was nearly off his + chump. He used to be darkish iron-grey, but his hair went snow-white in a + fortnight. And Mr. Lucian Apse (they had known each other as young men) + pretended not to notice it. Eh? Here’s infatuation if you like! Here’s + pride for you! + </p> + <p> + “They jumped at the first man they could get to take her, for fear of the + scandal of the Apse Family not being able to find a skipper. He was a + festive soul, I believe, but he stuck to her grim and hard. Wilmot was his + second mate. A harum-scarum fellow, and pretending to a great scorn for + all the girls. The fact is he was really timid. But let only one of them + do as much as lift her little finger in encouragement, and there was + nothing that could hold the beggar. As apprentice, once, he deserted + abroad after a petticoat, and would have gone to the dogs then, if his + skipper hadn’t taken the trouble to find him and lug him by the ears out + of some house of perdition or other. + </p> + <p> + “It was said that one of the firm had been heard once to express a hope + that this brute of a ship would get lost soon. I can hardly credit the + tale, unless it might have been Mr. Alfred Apse, whom the family didn’t + think much of. They had him in the office, but he was considered a bad egg + altogether, always flying off to race meetings and coming home drunk. You + would have thought that a ship so full of deadly tricks would run herself + ashore some day out of sheer cussedness. But not she! She was going to + last for ever. She had a nose to keep off the bottom.” + </p> + <p> + Jermyn made a grunt of approval. + </p> + <p> + “A ship after a pilot’s own heart, eh?” jeered the man in tweeds. “Well, + Wilmot managed it. He was the man for it, but even he, perhaps, couldn’t + have done the trick without the green-eyed governess, or nurse, or + whatever she was to the children of Mr. and Mrs. Pamphilius. + </p> + <p> + “Those people were passengers in her from Port Adelaide to the Cape. Well, + the ship went out and anchored outside for the day. The skipper—hospitable + soul—had a lot of guests from town to a farewell lunch—as + usual with him. It was five in the evening before the last shore boat left + the side, and the weather looked ugly and dark in the gulf. There was no + reason for him to get under way. However, as he had told everybody he was + going that day, he imagined it was proper to do so anyhow. But as he had + no mind after all these festivities to tackle the straits in the dark, + with a scant wind, he gave orders to keep the ship under lower topsails + and foresail as close as she would lie, dodging along the land till the + morning. Then he sought his virtuous couch. The mate was on deck, having + his face washed very clean with hard rain squalls. Wilmot relieved him at + midnight. + </p> + <p> + “The Apse Family had, as you observed, a house on her poop . . .” + </p> + <p> + “A big, ugly white thing, sticking up,” Jermyn murmured, sadly, at the + fire. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it: a companion for the cabin stairs and a sort of chart-room + combined. The rain drove in gusts on the sleepy Wilmot. The ship was then + surging slowly to the southward, close hauled, with the coast within three + miles or so to windward. There was nothing to look out for in that part of + the gulf, and Wilmot went round to dodge the squalls under the lee of that + chart-room, whose door on that side was open. The night was black, like a + barrel of coal-tar. And then he heard a woman’s voice whispering to him. + </p> + <p> + “That confounded green-eyed girl of the Pamphilius people had put the kids + to bed a long time ago, of course, but it seems couldn’t get to sleep + herself. She heard eight bells struck, and the chief mate come below to + turn in. She waited a bit, then got into her dressing-gown and stole + across the empty saloon and up the stairs into the chart-room. She sat + down on the settee near the open door to cool herself, I daresay. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose when she whispered to Wilmot it was as if somebody had struck a + match in the fellow’s brain. I don’t know how it was they had got so very + thick. I fancy he had met her ashore a few times before. I couldn’t make + it out, because, when telling the story, Wilmot would break off to swear + something awful at every second word. We had met on the quay in Sydney, + and he had an apron of sacking up to his chin, a big whip in his hand. A + wagon-driver. Glad to do anything not to starve. That’s what he had come + down to. + </p> + <p> + “However, there he was, with his head inside the door, on the girl’s + shoulder as likely as not—officer of the watch! The helmsman, on + giving his evidence afterwards, said that he shouted several times that + the binnacle lamp had gone out. It didn’t matter to him, because his + orders were to ‘sail her close.’ ‘I thought it funny,’ he said, ‘that the + ship should keep on falling off in squalls, but I luffed her up every time + as close as I was able. It was so dark I couldn’t see my hand before my + face, and the rain came in bucketfuls on my head.’ + </p> + <p> + “The truth was that at every squall the wind hauled aft a little, till + gradually the ship came to be heading straight for the coast, without a + single soul in her being aware of it. Wilmot himself confessed that he had + not been near the standard compass for an hour. He might well have + confessed! The first thing he knew was the man on the look-out shouting + blue murder forward there. + </p> + <p> + “He tore his neck free, he says, and yelled back at him: ‘What do you + say?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I think I hear breakers ahead, sir,’ howled the man, and came rushing + aft with the rest of the watch, in the ‘awfullest blinding deluge that + ever fell from the sky,’ Wilmot says. For a second or so he was so scared + and bewildered that he could not remember on which side of the gulf the + ship was. He wasn’t a good officer, but he was a seaman all the same. He + pulled himself together in a second, and the right orders sprang to his + lips without thinking. They were to hard up with the helm and shiver the + main and mizzen-topsails. + </p> + <p> + “It seems that the sails actually fluttered. He couldn’t see them, but he + heard them rattling and banging above his head. ‘No use! She was too slow + in going off,’ he went on, his dirty face twitching, and the damn’d + carter’s whip shaking in his hand. ‘She seemed to stick fast.’ And then + the flutter of the canvas above his head ceased. At this critical moment + the wind hauled aft again with a gust, filling the sails and sending the + ship with a great way upon the rocks on her lee bow. She had overreached + herself in her last little game. Her time had come—the hour, the + man, the black night, the treacherous gust of wind—the right woman + to put an end to her. The brute deserved nothing better. Strange are the + instruments of Providence. There’s a sort of poetical justice—” + </p> + <p> + The man in tweeds looked hard at me. + </p> + <p> + “The first ledge she went over stripped the false keel off her. Rip! The + skipper, rushing out of his berth, found a crazy woman, in a red flannel + dressing-gown, flying round and round the cuddy, screeching like a + cockatoo. + </p> + <p> + “The next bump knocked her clean under the cabin table. It also started + the stern-post and carried away the rudder, and then that brute ran up a + shelving, rocky shore, tearing her bottom out, till she stopped short, and + the foremast dropped over the bows like a gangway.” + </p> + <p> + “Anybody lost?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No one, unless that fellow, Wilmot,” answered the gentleman, unknown to + Miss Blank, looking round for his cap. “And his case was worse than + drowning for a man. Everybody got ashore all right. Gale didn’t come on + till next day, dead from the West, and broke up that brute in a + surprisingly short time. It was as though she had been rotten at heart.” . + . . He changed his tone, “Rain left off? I must get my bike and rush home + to dinner. I live in Herne Bay—came out for a spin this morning.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded at me in a friendly way, and went out with a swagger. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who he is, Jermyn?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + The North Sea pilot shook his head, dismally. “Fancy losing a ship in that + silly fashion! Oh, dear! oh dear!” he groaned in lugubrious tones, + spreading his damp handkerchief again like a curtain before the glowing + grate. + </p> + <p> + On going out I exchanged a glance and a smile (strictly proper) with the + respectable Miss Blank, barmaid of the Three Crows. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ANARCHIST + </h2> + <h3> + A DESPERATE TALE + </h3> + <p> + That year I spent the best two months of the dry season on one of the + estates—in fact, on the principal cattle estate—of a famous + meat-extract manufacturing company. + </p> + <p> + B.O.S. Bos. You have seen the three magic letters on the advertisement + pages of magazines and newspapers, in the windows of provision merchants, + and on calendars for next year you receive by post in the month of + November. They scatter pamphlets also, written in a sickly enthusiastic + style and in several languages, giving statistics of slaughter and + bloodshed enough to make a Turk turn faint. The “art” illustrating that + “literature” represents in vivid and shining colours a large and enraged + black bull stamping upon a yellow snake writhing in emerald-green grass, + with a cobalt-blue sky for a background. It is atrocious and it is an + allegory. The snake symbolizes disease, weakness—perhaps mere + hunger, which last is the chronic disease of the majority of mankind. Of + course everybody knows the B. O. S. Ltd., with its unrivalled products: + Vinobos, Jellybos, and the latest unequalled perfection, Tribos, whose + nourishment is offered to you not only highly concentrated, but already + half digested. Such apparently is the love that Limited Company bears to + its fellowmen—even as the love of the father and mother penguin for + their hungry fledglings. + </p> + <p> + Of course the capital of a country must be productively employed. I have + nothing to say against the company. But being myself animated by feelings + of affection towards my fellow-men, I am saddened by the modern system of + advertising. Whatever evidence it offers of enterprise, ingenuity, + impudence, and resource in certain individuals, it proves to my mind the + wide prevalence of that form of mental degradation which is called + gullibility. + </p> + <p> + In various parts of the civilized and uncivilized world I have had to + swallow B. O. S. with more or less benefit to myself, though without great + pleasure. Prepared with hot water and abundantly peppered to bring out the + taste, this extract is not really unpalatable. But I have never swallowed + its advertisements. Perhaps they have not gone far enough. As far as I can + remember they make no promise of everlasting youth to the users of B. O. + S., nor yet have they claimed the power of raising the dead for their + estimable products. Why this austere reserve, I wonder? But I don’t think + they would have had me even on these terms. Whatever form of mental + degradation I may (being but human) be suffering from, it is not the + popular form. I am not gullible. + </p> + <p> + I have been at some pains to bring out distinctly this statement about + myself in view of the story which follows. I have checked the facts as far + as possible. I have turned up the files of French newspapers, and I have + also talked with the officer who commands the military guard on the Ile + Royale, when in the course of my travels I reached Cayenne. I believe the + story to be in the main true. It is the sort of story that no man, I + think, would ever invent about himself, for it is neither grandiose nor + flattering, nor yet funny enough to gratify a perverted vanity. + </p> + <p> + It concerns the engineer of the steam-launch belonging to the Maranon + cattle estate of the B. O. S. Co., Ltd. This estate is also an island—an + island as big as a small province, lying in the estuary of a great South + American river. It is wild and not beautiful, but the grass growing on its + low plains seems to possess exceptionally nourishing and flavouring + qualities. It resounds with the lowing of innumerable herds—a deep + and distressing sound under the open sky, rising like a monstrous protest + of prisoners condemned to death. On the mainland, across twenty miles of + discoloured muddy water, there stands a city whose name, let us say, is + Horta. + </p> + <p> + But the most interesting characteristic of this island (which seems like a + sort of penal settlement for condemned cattle) consists in its being the + only known habitat of an extremely rare and gorgeous butterfly. The + species is even more rare than it is beautiful, which is not saying + little. I have already alluded to my travels. I travelled at that time, + but strictly for myself and with a moderation unknown in our days of + round-the-world tickets. I even travelled with a purpose. As a matter of + fact, I am—“Ha, ha, ha!—a desperate butterfly-slayer. Ha, ha, + ha!” + </p> + <p> + This was the tone in which Mr. Harry Gee, the manager of the cattle + station, alluded to my pursuits. He seemed to consider me the greatest + absurdity in the world. On the other hand, the B. O. S. Co., Ltd., + represented to him the acme of the nineteenth century’s achievement. I + believe that he slept in his leggings and spurs. His days he spent in the + saddle flying over the plains, followed by a train of half-wild horsemen, + who called him Don Enrique, and who had no definite idea of the B. O. S. + Co., Ltd., which paid their wages. He was an excellent manager, but I + don’t see why, when we met at meals, he should have thumped me on the + back, with loud, derisive inquiries: “How’s the deadly sport to-day? + Butterflies going strong? Ha, ha, ha!”—especially as he charged me + two dollars per diem for the hospitality of the B. O. S. Co., Ltd., + (capital L1,500,000, fully paid up), in whose balance-sheet for that year + those monies are no doubt included. “I don’t think I can make it anything + less in justice to my company,” he had remarked, with extreme gravity, + when I was arranging with him the terms of my stay on the island. + </p> + <p> + His chaff would have been harmless enough if intimacy of intercourse in + the absence of all friendly feeling were not a thing detestable in itself. + Moreover, his facetiousness was not very amusing. It consisted in the + wearisome repetition of descriptive phrases applied to people with a burst + of laughter. “Desperate butterfly-slayer. Ha, ha, ha!” was one sample of + his peculiar wit which he himself enjoyed so much. And in the same vein of + exquisite humour he called my attention to the engineer of the + steam-launch, one day, as we strolled on the path by the side of the + creek. + </p> + <p> + The man’s head and shoulders emerged above the deck, over which were + scattered various tools of his trade and a few pieces of machinery. He was + doing some repairs to the engines. At the sound of our footsteps he raised + anxiously a grimy face with a pointed chin and a tiny fair moustache. What + could be seen of his delicate features under the black smudges appeared to + me wasted and livid in the greenish shade of the enormous tree spreading + its foliage over the launch moored close to the bank. + </p> + <p> + To my great surprise, Harry Gee addressed him as “Crocodile,” in that + half-jeering, half-bullying tone which is characteristic of + self-satisfaction in his delectable kind: + </p> + <p> + “How does the work get on, Crocodile?” + </p> + <p> + I should have said before that the amiable Harry had picked up French of a + sort somewhere—in some colony or other—and that he pronounced + it with a disagreeable forced precision as though he meant to guy the + language. The man in the launch answered him quickly in a pleasant voice. + His eyes had a liquid softness and his teeth flashed dazzlingly white + between his thin, drooping lips. The manager turned to me, very cheerful + and loud, explaining: + </p> + <p> + “I call him Crocodile because he lives half in, half out of the creek. + Amphibious—see? There’s nothing else amphibious living on the island + except crocodiles; so he must belong to the species—eh? But in + reality he’s nothing less than un citoyen anarchiste de Barcelone.” + </p> + <p> + “A citizen anarchist from Barcelona?” I repeated, stupidly, looking down + at the man. He had turned to his work in the engine-well of the launch and + presented his bowed back to us. In that attitude I heard him protest, very + audibly: + </p> + <p> + “I do not even know Spanish.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? What? You dare to deny you come from over there?” the accomplished + manager was down on him truculently. + </p> + <p> + At this the man straightened himself up, dropping a spanner he had been + using, and faced us; but he trembled in all his limbs. + </p> + <p> + “I deny nothing, nothing, nothing!” he said, excitedly. + </p> + <p> + He picked up the spanner and went to work again without paying any further + attention to us. After looking at him for a minute or so, we went away. + </p> + <p> + “Is he really an anarchist?” I asked, when out of ear-shot. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care a hang what he is,” answered the humorous official of the B. + O. S. Co. “I gave him the name because it suited me to label him in that + way, It’s good for the company.” + </p> + <p> + “For the company!” I exclaimed, stopping short. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” he triumphed, tilting up his hairless pug face and straddling his + thin, long legs. “That surprises you. I am bound to do my best for my + company. They have enormous expenses. Why—our agent in Horta tells + me they spend fifty thousand pounds every year in advertising all over the + world! One can’t be too economical in working the show. Well, just you + listen. When I took charge here the estate had no steam-launch. I asked + for one, and kept on asking by every mail till I got it; but the man they + sent out with it chucked his job at the end of two months, leaving the + launch moored at the pontoon in Horta. Got a better screw at a sawmill up + the river—blast him! And ever since it has been the same thing. Any + Scotch or Yankee vagabond that likes to call himself a mechanic out here + gets eighteen pounds a month, and the next you know he’s cleared out, + after smashing something as likely as not. I give you my word that some of + the objects I’ve had for engine-drivers couldn’t tell the boiler from the + funnel. But this fellow understands his trade, and I don’t mean him to + clear out. See?” + </p> + <p> + And he struck me lightly on the chest for emphasis. Disregarding his + peculiarities of manner, I wanted to know what all this had to do with the + man being an anarchist. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” jeered the manager. “If you saw suddenly a barefooted, unkempt + chap slinking amongst the bushes on the sea face of the island, and at the + same time observed less than a mile from the beach, a small schooner full + of niggers hauling off in a hurry, you wouldn’t think the man fell there + from the sky, would you? And it could be nothing else but either that or + Cayenne. I’ve got my wits about me. Directly I sighted this queer game I + said to myself—‘Escaped Convict.’ I was as certain of it as I am of + seeing you standing here this minute. So I spurred on straight at him. He + stood his ground for a bit on a sand hillock crying out: ‘Monsieur! + Monsieur! Arretez!’ then at the last moment broke and ran for life. Says I + to myself, ‘I’ll tame you before I’m done with you.’ So without a single + word I kept on, heading him off here and there. I rounded him up towards + the shore, and at last I had him corralled on a spit, his heels in the + water and nothing but sea and sky at his back, with my horse pawing the + sand and shaking his head within a yard of him. + </p> + <p> + “He folded his arms on his breast then and stuck his chin up in a sort of + desperate way; but I wasn’t to be impressed by the beggar’s posturing. + </p> + <p> + “Says I, ‘You’re a runaway convict.’ + </p> + <p> + “When he heard French, his chin went down and his face changed. + </p> + <p> + “‘I deny nothing,’ says he, panting yet, for I had kept him skipping about + in front of my horse pretty smartly. I asked him what he was doing there. + He had got his breath by then, and explained that he had meant to make his + way to a farm which he understood (from the schooner’s people, I suppose) + was to be found in the neighbourhood. At that I laughed aloud and he got + uneasy. Had he been deceived? Was there no farm within walking distance? + </p> + <p> + “I laughed more and more. He was on foot, and of course the first bunch of + cattle he came across would have stamped him to rags under their hoofs. A + dismounted man caught on the feeding-grounds hasn’t got the ghost of a + chance. + </p> + <p> + “‘My coming upon you like this has certainly saved your life,’ I said. He + remarked that perhaps it was so; but that for his part he had imagined I + had wanted to kill him under the hoofs of my horse. I assured him that + nothing would have been easier had I meant it. And then we came to a sort + of dead stop. For the life of me I didn’t know what to do with this + convict, unless I chucked him into the sea. It occurred to me to ask him + what he had been transported for. He hung his head. + </p> + <p> + “‘What is it?’ says I. ‘Theft, murder, rape, or what?’ I wanted to hear + what he would have to say for himself, though of course I expected it + would be some sort of lie. But all he said was— + </p> + <p> + “‘Make it what you like. I deny nothing. It is no good denying anything.’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked him over carefully and a thought struck me. + </p> + <p> + “‘They’ve got anarchists there, too,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you’re one of + them.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I deny nothing whatever, monsieur,’ he repeats. + </p> + <p> + “This answer made me think that perhaps he was not an anarchist. I believe + those damned lunatics are rather proud of themselves. If he had been one, + he would have probably confessed straight out. + </p> + <p> + “‘What were you before you became a convict?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ouvrier,’ he says. ‘And a good workman, too.’ + </p> + <p> + “At that I began to think he must be an anarchist, after all. That’s the + class they come mostly from, isn’t it? I hate the cowardly bomb-throwing + brutes. I almost made up my mind to turn my horse short round and leave + him to starve or drown where he was, whichever he liked best. As to + crossing the island to bother me again, the cattle would see to that. I + don’t know what induced me to ask— + </p> + <p> + “‘What sort of workman?’ + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t care a hang whether he answered me or not. But when he said at + once, ‘Mecanicien, monsieur,’ I nearly jumped out of the saddle with + excitement. The launch had been lying disabled and idle in the creek for + three weeks. My duty to the company was clear. He noticed my start, too, + and there we were for a minute or so staring at each other as if + bewitched. + </p> + <p> + “‘Get up on my horse behind me,’ I told him. ‘You shall put my + steam-launch to rights.’” + </p> + <p> + These are the words in which the worthy manager of the Maranon estate + related to me the coming of the supposed anarchist. He meant to keep him—out + of a sense of duty to the company—and the name he had given him + would prevent the fellow from obtaining employment anywhere in Horta. The + vaqueros of the estate, when they went on leave, spread it all over the + town. They did not know what an anarchist was, nor yet what Barcelona + meant. They called him Anarchisto de Barcelona, as if it were his + Christian name and surname. But the people in town had been reading in + their papers about the anarchists in Europe and were very much impressed. + Over the jocular addition of “de Barcelona” Mr. Harry Gee chuckled with + immense satisfaction. “That breed is particularly murderous, isn’t it? It + makes the sawmills crowd still more afraid of having anything to do with + him—see?” he exulted, candidly. “I hold him by that name better than + if I had him chained up by the leg to the deck of the steam-launch. + </p> + <p> + “And mark,” he added, after a pause, “he does not deny it. I am not + wronging him in any way. He is a convict of some sort, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “But I suppose you pay him some wages, don’t you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Wages! What does he want with money here? He gets his food from my + kitchen and his clothing from the store. Of course I’ll give him something + at the end of the year, but you don’t think I’d employ a convict and give + him the same money I would give an honest man? I am looking after the + interests of my company first and last.” + </p> + <p> + I admitted that, for a company spending fifty thousand pounds every year + in advertising, the strictest economy was obviously necessary. The manager + of the Maranon Estancia grunted approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “And I’ll tell you what,” he continued: “if I were certain he’s an + anarchist and he had the cheek to ask me for money, I would give him the + toe of my boot. However, let him have the benefit of the doubt. I am + perfectly willing to take it that he has done nothing worse than to stick + a knife into somebody—with extenuating circumstances—French + fashion, don’t you know. But that subversive sanguinary rot of doing away + with all law and order in the world makes my blood boil. It’s simply + cutting the ground from under the feet of every decent, respectable, + hard-working person. I tell you that the consciences of people who have + them, like you or I, must be protected in some way; or else the first low + scoundrel that came along would in every respect be just as good as + myself. Wouldn’t he, now? And that’s absurd!” + </p> + <p> + He glared at me. I nodded slightly and murmured that doubtless there was + much subtle truth in his view. + </p> + <p> + The principal truth discoverable in the views of Paul the engineer was + that a little thing may bring about the undoing of a man. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Il ne faut pas beaucoup pour perdre un homme</i>,” he said to me, + thoughtfully, one evening. + </p> + <p> + I report this reflection in French, since the man was of Paris, not of + Barcelona at all. At the Maranon he lived apart from the station, in a + small shed with a metal roof and straw walls, which he called mon atelier. + He had a work-bench there. They had given him several horse-blankets and a + saddle—not that he ever had occasion to ride, but because no other + bedding was used by the working-hands, who were all vaqueros—cattlemen. + And on this horseman’s gear, like a son of the plains, he used to sleep + amongst the tools of his trade, in a litter of rusty scrap-iron, with a + portable forge at his head, under the work-bench sustaining his grimy + mosquito-net. + </p> + <p> + Now and then I would bring him a few candle ends saved from the scant + supply of the manager’s house. He was very thankful for these. He did not + like to lie awake in the dark, he confessed. He complained that sleep fled + from him. “Le sommeil me fuit,” he declared, with his habitual air of + subdued stoicism, which made him sympathetic and touching. I made it clear + to him that I did not attach undue importance to the fact of his having + been a convict. + </p> + <p> + Thus it came about that one evening he was led to talk about himself. As + one of the bits of candle on the edge of the bench burned down to the end, + he hastened to light another. + </p> + <p> + He had done his military service in a provincial garrison and returned to + Paris to follow his trade. It was a well-paid one. He told me with some + pride that in a short time he was earning no less than ten francs a day. + He was thinking of setting up for himself by and by and of getting + married. + </p> + <p> + Here he sighed deeply and paused. Then with a return to his stoical note: + </p> + <p> + “It seems I did not know enough about myself.” + </p> + <p> + On his twenty-fifth birthday two of his friends in the repairing shop + where he worked proposed to stand him a dinner. He was immensely touched + by this attention. + </p> + <p> + “I was a steady man,” he remarked, “but I am not less sociable than any + other body.” + </p> + <p> + The entertainment came off in a little cafe on the Boulevard de la + Chapelle. At dinner they drank some special wine. It was excellent. + Everything was excellent; and the world—in his own words—seemed + a very good place to live in. He had good prospects, some little money + laid by, and the affection of two excellent friends. He offered to pay for + all the drinks after dinner, which was only proper on his part. + </p> + <p> + They drank more wine; they drank liqueurs, cognac, beer, then more + liqueurs and more cognac. Two strangers sitting at the next table looked + at him, he said, with so much friendliness, that he invited them to join + the party. + </p> + <p> + He had never drunk so much in his life. His elation was extreme, and so + pleasurable that whenever it flagged he hastened to order more drinks. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed to me,” he said, in his quiet tone and looking on the ground in + the gloomy shed full of shadows, “that I was on the point of just + attaining a great and wonderful felicity. Another drink, I felt, would do + it. The others were holding out well with me, glass for glass.” + </p> + <p> + But an extraordinary thing happened. At something the strangers said his + elation fell. Gloomy ideas—des idees noires—rushed into his + head. All the world outside the cafe; appeared to him as a dismal evil + place where a multitude of poor wretches had to work and slave to the sole + end that a few individuals should ride in carriages and live riotously in + palaces. He became ashamed of his happiness. The pity of mankind’s cruel + lot wrung his heart. In a voice choked with sorrow he tried to express + these sentiments. He thinks he wept and swore in turns. + </p> + <p> + The two new acquaintances hastened to applaud his humane indignation. Yes. + The amount of injustice in the world was indeed scandalous. There was only + one way of dealing with the rotten state of society. Demolish the whole + sacree boutique. Blow up the whole iniquitous show. + </p> + <p> + Their heads hovered over the table. They whispered to him eloquently; I + don’t think they quite expected the result. He was extremely drunk—mad + drunk. With a howl of rage he leaped suddenly upon the table. Kicking over + the bottles and glasses, he yelled: “Vive l’anarchie! Death to the + capitalists!” He yelled this again and again. All round him broken glass + was falling, chairs were being swung in the air, people were taking each + other by the throat. The police dashed in. He hit, bit, scratched and + struggled, till something crashed down upon his head. . . . + </p> + <p> + He came to himself in a police cell, locked up on a charge of assault, + seditious cries, and anarchist propaganda. + </p> + <p> + He looked at me fixedly with his liquid, shining eyes, that seemed very + big in the dim light. + </p> + <p> + “That was bad. But even then I might have got off somehow, perhaps,” he + said, slowly. + </p> + <p> + I doubt it. But whatever chance he had was done away with by a young + socialist lawyer who volunteered to undertake his defence. In vain he + assured him that he was no anarchist; that he was a quiet, respectable + mechanic, only too anxious to work ten hours per day at his trade. He was + represented at the trial as the victim of society and his drunken + shoutings as the expression of infinite suffering. The young lawyer had + his way to make, and this case was just what he wanted for a start. The + speech for the defence was pronounced magnificent. + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow paused, swallowed, and brought out the statement: + </p> + <p> + “I got the maximum penalty applicable to a first offence.” + </p> + <p> + I made an appropriate murmur. He hung his head and folded his arms. + </p> + <p> + “When they let me out of prison,” he began, gently, “I made tracks, of + course, for my old workshop. My patron had a particular liking for me + before; but when he saw me he turned green with fright and showed me the + door with a shaking hand.” + </p> + <p> + While he stood in the street, uneasy and disconcerted, he was accosted by + a middle-aged man who introduced himself as an engineer’s fitter, too. “I + know who you are,” he said. “I have attended your trial. You are a good + comrade and your ideas are sound. But the devil of it is that you won’t be + able to get work anywhere now. These bourgeois’ll conspire to starve you. + That’s their way. Expect no mercy from the rich.” + </p> + <p> + To be spoken to so kindly in the street had comforted him very much. His + seemed to be the sort of nature needing support and sympathy. The idea of + not being able to find work had knocked him over completely. If his + patron, who knew him so well for a quiet, orderly, competent workman, + would have nothing to do with him now—then surely nobody else would. + That was clear. The police, keeping their eye on him, would hasten to warn + every employer inclined to give him a chance. He felt suddenly very + helpless, alarmed and idle; and he followed the middle-aged man to the + estaminet round the corner where he met some other good companions. They + assured him that he would not be allowed to starve, work or no work. They + had drinks all round to the discomfiture of all employers of labour and to + the destruction of society. + </p> + <p> + He sat biting his lower lip. + </p> + <p> + “That is, monsieur, how I became a compagnon,” he said. The hand he passed + over his forehead was trembling. “All the same, there’s something wrong in + a world where a man can get lost for a glass more or less.” + </p> + <p> + He never looked up, though I could see he was getting excited under his + dejection. He slapped the bench with his open palm. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he cried. “It was an impossible existence! Watched by the police, + watched by the comrades, I did not belong to myself any more! Why, I could + not even go to draw a few francs from my savings-bank without a comrade + hanging about the door to see that I didn’t bolt! And most of them were + neither more nor less than housebreakers. The intelligent, I mean. They + robbed the rich; they were only getting back their own, they said. When I + had had some drink I believed them. There were also the fools and the mad. + Des exaltes—quoi! When I was drunk I loved them. When I got more + drink I was angry with the world. That was the best time. I found refuge + from misery in rage. But one can’t be always drunk—n’est-ce pas, + monsieur? And when I was sober I was afraid to break away. They would have + stuck me like a pig.” + </p> + <p> + He folded his arms again and raised his sharp chin with a bitter smile. + </p> + <p> + “By and by they told me it was time to go to work. The work was to rob a + bank. Afterwards a bomb would be thrown to wreck the place. My beginner’s + part would be to keep watch in a street at the back and to take care of a + black bag with the bomb inside till it was wanted. After the meeting at + which the affair was arranged a trusty comrade did not leave me an inch. I + had not dared to protest; I was afraid of being done away with quietly in + that room; only, as we were walking together I wondered whether it would + not be better for me to throw myself suddenly into the Seine. But while I + was turning it over in my mind we had crossed the bridge, and afterwards I + had not the opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + In the light of the candle end, with his sharp features, fluffy little + moustache, and oval face, he looked at times delicately and gaily young, + and then appeared quite old, decrepit, full of sorrow, pressing his folded + arms to his breast. + </p> + <p> + As he remained silent I felt bound to ask: + </p> + <p> + “Well! And how did it end?” + </p> + <p> + “Deportation to Cayenne,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to think that somebody had given the plot away. As he was + keeping watch in the back street, bag in hand, he was set upon by the + police. “These imbeciles,” had knocked him down without noticing what he + had in his hand. He wondered how the bomb failed to explode as he fell. + But it didn’t explode. + </p> + <p> + “I tried to tell my story in court,” he continued. “The president was + amused. There were in the audience some idiots who laughed.” + </p> + <p> + I expressed the hope that some of his companions had been caught, too. He + shuddered slightly before he told me that there were two—Simon, + called also Biscuit, the middle-aged fitter who spoke to him in the + street, and a fellow of the name of Mafile, one of the sympathetic + strangers who had applauded his sentiments and consoled his humanitarian + sorrows when he got drunk in the cafe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he went on, with an effort, “I had the advantage of their company + over there on St. Joseph’s Island, amongst some eighty or ninety other + convicts. We were all classed as dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + St. Joseph’s Island is the prettiest of the Iles de Salut. It is rocky and + green, with shallow ravines, bushes, thickets, groves of mango-trees, and + many feathery palms. Six warders armed with revolvers and carbines are in + charge of the convicts kept there. + </p> + <p> + An eight-oared galley keeps up the communication in the daytime, across a + channel a quarter of a mile wide, with the Ile Royale, where there is a + military post. She makes the first trip at six in the morning. At four in + the afternoon her service is over, and she is then hauled up into a little + dock on the Ile Royale and a sentry put over her and a few smaller boats. + From that time till next morning the island of St. Joseph remains cut off + from the rest of the world, with the warders patrolling in turn the path + from the warders’ house to the convict huts, and a multitude of sharks + patrolling the waters all round. + </p> + <p> + Under these circumstances the convicts planned a mutiny. Such a thing had + never been known in the penitentiary’s history before. But their plan was + not without some possibility of success. The warders were to be taken by + surprise and murdered during the night. Their arms would enable the + convicts to shoot down the people in the galley as she came alongside in + the morning. The galley once in their possession, other boats were to be + captured, and the whole company was to row away up the coast. + </p> + <p> + At dusk the two warders on duty mustered the convicts as usual. Then they + proceeded to inspect the huts to ascertain that everything was in order. + In the second they entered they were set upon and absolutely smothered + under the numbers of their assailants. The twilight faded rapidly. It was + a new moon; and a heavy black squall gathering over the coast increased + the profound darkness of the night. The convicts assembled in the open + space, deliberating upon the next step to be taken, argued amongst + themselves in low voices. + </p> + <p> + “You took part in all this?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. I knew what was going to be done, of course. But why should I kill + these warders? I had nothing against them. But I was afraid of the others. + Whatever happened, I could not escape from them. I sat alone on the stump + of a tree with my head in my hands, sick at heart at the thought of a + freedom that could be nothing but a mockery to me. Suddenly I was startled + to perceive the shape of a man on the path near by. He stood perfectly + still, then his form became effaced in the night. It must have been the + chief warder coming to see what had become of his two men. No one noticed + him. The convicts kept on quarrelling over their plans. The leaders could + not get themselves obeyed. The fierce whispering of that dark mass of men + was very horrible. + </p> + <p> + “At last they divided into two parties and moved off. When they had passed + me I rose, weary and hopeless. The path to the warders’ house was dark and + silent, but on each side the bushes rustled slightly. Presently I saw a + faint thread of light before me. The chief warder, followed by his three + men, was approaching cautiously. But he had failed to close his dark + lantern properly. The convicts had seen that faint gleam, too. There was + an awful savage yell, a turmoil on the dark path, shots fired, blows, + groans: and with the sound of smashed bushes, the shouts of the pursuers + and the screams of the pursued, the man-hunt, the warder-hunt, passed by + me into the interior of the island. I was alone. And I assure you, + monsieur, I was indifferent to everything. After standing still for a + while, I walked on along the path till I kicked something hard. I stooped + and picked up a warder’s revolver. I felt with my fingers that it was + loaded in five chambers. In the gusts of wind I heard the convicts calling + to each other far away, and then a roll of thunder would cover the + soughing and rustling of the trees. Suddenly, a big light ran across my + path very low along the ground. And it showed a woman’s skirt with the + edge of an apron. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that the person who carried it must be the wife of the head + warder. They had forgotten all about her, it seems. A shot rang out in the + interior of the island, and she cried out to herself as she ran. She + passed on. I followed, and presently I saw her again. She was pulling at + the cord of the big bell which hangs at the end of the landing-pier, with + one hand, and with the other she was swinging the heavy lantern to and + fro. This is the agreed signal for the Ile Royale should assistance be + required at night. The wind carried the sound away from our island and the + light she swung was hidden on the shore side by the few trees that grow + near the warders’ house. + </p> + <p> + “I came up quite close to her from behind. She went on without stopping, + without looking aside, as though she had been all alone on the island. A + brave woman, monsieur. I put the revolver inside the breast of my blue + blouse and waited. A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder destroyed + both the sound and the light of the signal for an instant, but she never + faltered, pulling at the cord and swinging the lantern as regularly as a + machine. She was a comely woman of thirty—no more. I thought to + myself, ‘All that’s no good on a night like this.’ And I made up my mind + that if a body of my fellow-convicts came down to the pier—which was + sure to happen soon—I would shoot her through the head before I shot + myself. I knew the ‘comrades’ well. This idea of mine gave me quite an + interest in life, monsieur; and at once, instead of remaining stupidly + exposed on the pier, I retreated a little way and crouched behind a bush. + I did not intend to let myself be pounced upon unawares and be prevented + perhaps from rendering a supreme service to at least one human creature + before I died myself. + </p> + <p> + “But we must believe the signal was seen, for the galley from Ile Royale + came over in an astonishingly short time. The woman kept right on till the + light of her lantern flashed upon the officer in command and the bayonets + of the soldiers in the boat. Then she sat down and began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “She didn’t need me any more. I did not budge. Some soldiers were only in + their shirt-sleeves, others without boots, just as the call to arms had + found them. They passed by my bush at the double. The galley had been sent + away for more; and the woman sat all alone crying at the end of the pier, + with the lantern standing on the ground near her. + </p> + <p> + “Then suddenly I saw in the light at the end of the pier the red + pantaloons of two more men. I was overcome with astonishment. They, too, + started off at a run. Their tunics flapped unbuttoned and they were + bare-headed. One of them panted out to the other, ‘Straight on, straight + on!’ + </p> + <p> + “Where on earth did they spring from, I wondered. Slowly I walked down the + short pier. I saw the woman’s form shaken by sobs and heard her moaning + more and more distinctly, ‘Oh, my man! my poor man! my poor man!’ I stole + on quietly. She could neither hear nor see anything. She had thrown her + apron over her head and was rocking herself to and fro in her grief. But I + remarked a small boat fastened to the end of the pier. + </p> + <p> + “Those two men—they looked like sous-officiers—must have come + in it, after being too late, I suppose, for the galley. It is incredible + that they should have thus broken the regulations from a sense of duty. + And it was a stupid thing to do. I could not believe my eyes in the very + moment I was stepping into that boat. + </p> + <p> + “I pulled along the shore slowly. A black cloud hung over the Iles de + Salut. I heard firing, shouts. Another hunt had begun—the + convict-hunt. The oars were too long to pull comfortably. I managed them + with difficulty, though the boat herself was light. But when I got round + to the other side of the island the squall broke in rain and wind. I was + unable to make head against it. I let the boat drift ashore and secured + her. + </p> + <p> + “I knew the spot. There was a tumbledown old hovel standing near the + water. Cowering in there I heard through the noises of the wind and the + falling downpour some people tearing through the bushes. They came out on + the strand. Soldiers perhaps. A flash of lightning threw everything near + me into violent relief. Two convicts! + </p> + <p> + “And directly an amazed voice exclaimed. ‘It’s a miracle!’ It was the + voice of Simon, otherwise Biscuit. + </p> + <p> + “And another voice growled, ‘What’s a miracle?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, there’s a boat lying here!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You must be mad, Simon! But there is, after all. . . . A boat.’ + </p> + <p> + “They seemed awed into complete silence. The other man was Mafile. He + spoke again, cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is fastened up. There must be somebody here.’ + </p> + <p> + “I spoke to them from within the hovel: ‘I am here.’ + </p> + <p> + “They came in then, and soon gave me to understand that the boat was + theirs, not mine. ‘There are two of us,’ said Mafile, ‘against you alone.’ + </p> + <p> + “I got out into the open to keep clear of them for fear of getting a + treacherous blow on the head. I could have shot them both where they + stood. But I said nothing. I kept down the laughter rising in my throat. I + made myself very humble and begged to be allowed to go. They consulted in + low tones about my fate, while with my hand on the revolver in the bosom + of my blouse I had their lives in my power. I let them live. I meant them + to pull that boat. I represented to them with abject humility that I + understood the management of a boat, and that, being three to pull, we + could get a rest in turns. That decided them at last. It was time. A + little more and I would have gone into screaming fits at the drollness of + it.” + </p> + <p> + At this point his excitement broke out. He jumped off the bench and + gesticulated. The great shadows of his arms darting over roof and walls + made the shed appear too small to contain his agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I deny nothing,” he burst out. “I was elated, monsieur. I tasted a sort + of felicity. But I kept very quiet. I took my turns at pulling all through + the night. We made for the open sea, putting our trust in a passing ship. + It was a foolhardy action. I persuaded them to it. When the sun rose the + immensity of water was calm, and the Iles de Salut appeared only like dark + specks from the top of each swell. I was steering then. Mafile, who was + pulling bow, let out an oath and said, ‘We must rest.’ + </p> + <p> + “The time to laugh had come at last. And I took my fill of it, I can tell + you. I held my sides and rolled in my seat, they had such startled faces. + ‘What’s got into him, the animal?’ cries Mafile. + </p> + <p> + “And Simon, who was nearest to me, says over his shoulder to him, ‘Devil + take me if I don’t think he’s gone mad!’ + </p> + <p> + “Then I produced the revolver. Aha! In a moment they both got the stoniest + eyes you can imagine. Ha, ha! They were frightened. But they pulled. Oh, + yes, they pulled all day, sometimes looking wild and sometimes looking + faint. I lost nothing of it because I had to keep my eyes on them all the + time, or else—crack!—they would have been on top of me in a + second. I rested my revolver hand on my knee all ready and steered with + the other. Their faces began to blister. Sky and sea seemed on fire round + us and the sea steamed in the sun. The boat made a sizzling sound as she + went through the water. Sometimes Mafile foamed at the mouth and sometimes + he groaned. But he pulled. He dared not stop. His eyes became blood-shot + all over, and he had bitten his lower lip to pieces. Simon was as hoarse + as a crow. + </p> + <p> + “‘Comrade—’ he begins. + </p> + <p> + “‘There are no comrades here. I am your patron.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Patron, then,’ he says, ‘in the name of humanity let us rest.’ + </p> + <p> + “I let them. There was a little rainwater washing about the bottom of the + boat. I permitted them to snatch some of it in the hollow of their palms. + But as I gave the command, ‘En route!’ I caught them exchanging + significant glances. They thought I would have to go to sleep sometime! + Aha! But I did not want to go to sleep. I was more awake than ever. It is + they who went to sleep as they pulled, tumbling off the thwarts head over + heels suddenly, one after another. I let them lie. All the stars were out. + It was a quiet world. The sun rose. Another day. Allez! En route! + </p> + <p> + “They pulled badly. Their eyes rolled about and their tongues hung out. In + the middle of the forenoon Mafile croaks out: ‘Let us make a rush at him, + Simon. I would just as soon be shot at once as to die of thirst, hunger, + and fatigue at the oar.’ + </p> + <p> + “But while he spoke he pulled; and Simon kept on pulling too. It made me + smile. Ah! They loved their life these two, in this evil world of theirs, + just as I used to love my life, too, before they spoiled it for me with + their phrases. I let them go on to the point of exhaustion, and only then + I pointed at the sails of a ship on the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! You should have seen them revive and buckle to their work! For I + kept them at it to pull right across that ship’s path. They were changed. + The sort of pity I had felt for them left me. They looked more like + themselves every minute. They looked at me with the glances I remembered + so well. They were happy. They smiled. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ says Simon, ‘the energy of that youngster has saved our lives. If + he hadn’t made us, we could never have pulled so far out into the track of + ships. Comrade, I forgive you. I admire you.’ + </p> + <p> + “And Mafile growls from forward: ‘We owe you a famous debt of gratitude, + comrade. You are cut out for a chief.’ + </p> + <p> + “Comrade! Monsieur! Ah, what a good word! And they, such men as these two, + had made it accursed. I looked at them. I remembered their lies, their + promises, their menaces, and all my days of misery. Why could they not + have left me alone after I came out of prison? I looked at them and + thought that while they lived I could never be free. Never. Neither I nor + others like me with warm hearts and weak heads. For I know I have not a + strong head, monsieur. A black rage came upon me—the rage of extreme + intoxication—but not against the injustice of society. Oh, no! + </p> + <p> + “‘I must be free!’ I cried, furiously. + </p> + <p> + “‘Vive la liberte!” yells that ruffian Mafile. ‘Mort aux bourgeois who + send us to Cayenne! They shall soon know that we are free.’ + </p> + <p> + “The sky, the sea, the whole horizon, seemed to turn red, blood red all + round the boat. My temples were beating so loud that I wondered they did + not hear. How is it that they did not? How is it they did not understand? + </p> + <p> + “I heard Simon ask, ‘Have we not pulled far enough out now?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes. Far enough,’ I said. I was sorry for him; it was the other I hated. + He hauled in his oar with a loud sigh, and as he was raising his hand to + wipe his forehead with the air of a man who has done his work, I pulled + the trigger of my revolver and shot him like this off the knee, right + through the heart. + </p> + <p> + “He tumbled down, with his head hanging over the side of the boat. I did + not give him a second glance. The other cried out piercingly. Only one + shriek of horror. Then all was still. + </p> + <p> + “He slipped off the thwart on to his knees and raised his clasped hands + before his face in an attitude of supplication. ‘Mercy,’ he whispered, + faintly. ‘Mercy for me!—comrade.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah, comrade,’ I said, in a low tone. ‘Yes, comrade, of course. Well, + then, shout Vive l’anarchie.’ + </p> + <p> + “He flung up his arms, his face up to the sky and his mouth wide open in a + great yell of despair. ‘Vive l’anarchie! Vive—’ + </p> + <p> + “He collapsed all in a heap, with a bullet through his head. + </p> + <p> + “I flung them both overboard. I threw away the revolver, too. Then I sat + down quietly. I was free at last! At last. I did not even look towards the + ship; I did not care; indeed, I think I must have gone to sleep, because + all of a sudden there were shouts and I found the ship almost on top of + me. They hauled me on board and secured the boat astern. They were all + blacks, except the captain, who was a mulatto. He alone knew a few words + of French. I could not find out where they were going nor who they were. + They gave me something to eat every day; but I did not like the way they + used to discuss me in their language. Perhaps they were deliberating about + throwing me overboard in order to keep possession of the boat. How do I + know? As we were passing this island I asked whether it was inhabited. I + understood from the mulatto that there was a house on it. A farm, I + fancied, they meant. So I asked them to put me ashore on the beach and + keep the boat for their trouble. This, I imagine, was just what they + wanted. The rest you know.” + </p> + <p> + After pronouncing these words he lost suddenly all control over himself. + He paced to and fro rapidly, till at last he broke into a run; his arms + went like a windmill and his ejaculations became very much like raving. + The burden of them was that he “denied nothing, nothing!” I could only let + him go on, and sat out of his way, repeating, “Calmez vous, calmez vous,” + at intervals, till his agitation exhausted itself. + </p> + <p> + I must confess, too, that I remained there long after he had crawled under + his mosquito-net. He had entreated me not to leave him; so, as one sits up + with a nervous child, I sat up with him—in the name of humanity—till + he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, my idea is that he was much more of an anarchist than he + confessed to me or to himself; and that, the special features of his case + apart, he was very much like many other anarchists. Warm heart and weak + head—that is the word of the riddle; and it is a fact that the + bitterest contradictions and the deadliest conflicts of the world are + carried on in every individual breast capable of feeling and passion. + </p> + <p> + From personal inquiry I can vouch that the story of the convict mutiny was + in every particular as stated by him. + </p> + <p> + When I got back to Horta from Cayenne and saw the “Anarchist” again, he + did not look well. He was more worn, still more frail, and very livid + indeed under the grimy smudges of his calling. Evidently the meat of the + company’s main herd (in its unconcentrated form) did not agree with him at + all. + </p> + <p> + It was on the pontoon in Horta that we met; and I tried to induce him to + leave the launch moored where she was and follow me to Europe there and + then. It would have been delightful to think of the excellent manager’s + surprise and disgust at the poor fellow’s escape. But he refused with + unconquerable obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + “Surely you don’t mean to live always here!” I cried. He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I shall die here,” he said. Then added moodily, “Away from them.” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes I think of him lying open-eyed on his horseman’s gear in the low + shed full of tools and scraps of iron—the anarchist slave of the + Maranon estate, waiting with resignation for that sleep which “fled” from + him, as he used to say, in such an unaccountable manner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DUEL + </h2> + <h3> + A MILITARY TALE + </h3> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Napoleon I., whose career had the quality of a duel against the whole of + Europe, disliked duelling between the officers of his army. The great + military emperor was not a swashbuckler, and had little respect for + tradition. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, a story of duelling, which became a legend in the army, runs + through the epic of imperial wars. To the surprise and admiration of their + fellows, two officers, like insane artists trying to gild refined gold or + paint the lily, pursued a private contest through the years of universal + carnage. They were officers of cavalry, and their connection with the + high-spirited but fanciful animal which carries men into battle seems + particularly appropriate. It would be difficult to imagine for heroes of + this legend two officers of infantry of the line, for example, whose + fantasy is tamed by much walking exercise, and whose valour necessarily + must be of a more plodding kind. As to gunners or engineers, whose heads + are kept cool on a diet of mathematics, it is simply unthinkable. + </p> + <p> + The names of the two officers were Feraud and D’Hubert, and they were both + lieutenants in a regiment of hussars, but not in the same regiment. + </p> + <p> + Feraud was doing regimental work, but Lieut. D’Hubert had the good fortune + to be attached to the person of the general commanding the division, as + officier d’ordonnance. It was in Strasbourg, and in this agreeable and + important garrison they were enjoying greatly a short interval of peace. + They were enjoying it, though both intensely warlike, because it was a + sword-sharpening, firelock-cleaning peace, dear to a military heart and + undamaging to military prestige, inasmuch that no one believed in its + sincerity or duration. + </p> + <p> + Under those historical circumstances, so favourable to the proper + appreciation of military leisure, Lieut. D’Hubert, one fine afternoon, + made his way along a quiet street of a cheerful suburb towards Lieut. + Feraud’s quarters, which were in a private house with a garden at the + back, belonging to an old maiden lady. + </p> + <p> + His knock at the door was answered instantly by a young maid in Alsatian + costume. Her fresh complexion and her long eyelashes, lowered demurely at + the sight of the tall officer, caused Lieut. D’Hubert, who was accessible + to esthetic impressions, to relax the cold, severe gravity of his face. At + the same time he observed that the girl had over her arm a pair of + hussar’s breeches, blue with a red stripe. + </p> + <p> + “Lieut. Feraud in?” he inquired, benevolently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir! He went out at six this morning.” + </p> + <p> + The pretty maid tried to close the door. Lieut. D’Hubert, opposing this + move with gentle firmness, stepped into the ante-room, jingling his spurs. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear! You don’t mean to say he has not been home since six + o’clock this morning?” + </p> + <p> + Saying these words, Lieut. D’Hubert opened without ceremony the door of a + room so comfortably and neatly ordered that only from internal evidence in + the shape of boots, uniforms, and military accoutrements did he acquire + the conviction that it was Lieut. Feraud’s room. And he saw also that + Lieut. Feraud was not at home. The truthful maid had followed him, and + raised her candid eyes to his face. + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” said Lieut. D’Hubert, greatly disappointed, for he had already + visited all the haunts where a lieutenant of hussars could be found of a + fine afternoon. “So he’s out? And do you happen to know, my dear, why he + went out at six this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, readily. “He came home late last night, and snored. I + heard him when I got up at five. Then he dressed himself in his oldest + uniform and went out. Service, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Service? Not a bit of it!” cried Lieut. D’Hubert. “Learn, my angel, that + he went out thus early to fight a duel with a civilian.” + </p> + <p> + She heard this news without a quiver of her dark eyelashes. It was very + obvious that the actions of Lieut. Feraud were generally above criticism. + She only looked up for a moment in mute surprise, and Lieut. D’Hubert + concluded from this absence of emotion that she must have seen Lieut. + Feraud since the morning. He looked around the room. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he insisted, with confidential familiarity. “He’s perhaps + somewhere in the house now?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for him!” continued Lieut. D’Hubert, in a tone of + anxious conviction. “But he has been home this morning.” + </p> + <p> + This time the pretty maid nodded slightly. + </p> + <p> + “He has!” cried Lieut. D’Hubert. “And went out again? What for? Couldn’t + he keep quietly indoors! What a lunatic! My dear girl—” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert’s natural kindness of disposition and strong sense of + comradeship helped his powers of observation. He changed his tone to a + most insinuating softness, and, gazing at the hussar’s breeches hanging + over the arm of the girl, he appealed to the interest she took in Lieut. + Feraud’s comfort and happiness. He was pressing and persuasive. He used + his eyes, which were kind and fine, with excellent effect. His anxiety to + get hold at once of Lieut. Feraud, for Lieut. Feraud’s own good, seemed so + genuine that at last it overcame the girl’s unwillingness to speak. + Unluckily she had not much to tell. Lieut. Feraud had returned home + shortly before ten, had walked straight into his room, and had thrown + himself on his bed to resume his slumbers. She had heard him snore rather + louder than before far into the afternoon. Then he got up, put on his best + uniform, and went out. That was all she knew. + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes, and Lieut. D’Hubert stared into them incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “It’s incredible. Gone parading the town in his best uniform! My dear + child, don’t you know he ran that civilian through this morning? Clean + through, as you spit a hare.” + </p> + <p> + The pretty maid heard the gruesome intelligence without any signs of + distress. But she pressed her lips together thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “He isn’t parading the town,” she remarked in a low tone. “Far from it.” + </p> + <p> + “The civilian’s family is making an awful row,” continued Lieut. D’Hubert, + pursuing his train of thought. “And the general is very angry. It’s one of + the best families in the town. Feraud ought to have kept close at least—” + </p> + <p> + “What will the general do to him?” inquired the girl, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “He won’t have his head cut off, to be sure,” grumbled Lieut. D’Hubert. + “His conduct is positively indecent. He’s making no end of trouble for + himself by this sort of bravado.” + </p> + <p> + “But he isn’t parading the town,” the maid insisted in a shy murmur. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes! Now I think of it, I haven’t seen him anywhere about. What on + earth has he done with himself?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s gone to pay a call,” suggested the maid, after a moment of silence. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert started. + </p> + <p> + “A call! Do you mean a call on a lady? The cheek of the man! And how do + you know this, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Without concealing her woman’s scorn for the denseness of the masculine + mind, the pretty maid reminded him that Lieut. Feraud had arrayed himself + in his best uniform before going out. He had also put on his newest + dolman, she added, in a tone as if this conversation were getting on her + nerves, and turned away brusquely. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert, without questioning the accuracy of the deduction, did + not see that it advanced him much on his official quest. For his quest + after Lieut. Feraud had an official character. He did not know any of the + women this fellow, who had run a man through in the morning, was likely to + visit in the afternoon. The two young men knew each other but slightly. He + bit his gloved finger in perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “Call!” he exclaimed. “Call on the devil!” + </p> + <p> + The girl, with her back to him, and folding the hussars breeches on a + chair, protested with a vexed little laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no! On Madame de Lionne.” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert whistled softly. Madame de Lionne was the wife of a high + official who had a well-known salon and some pretensions to sensibility + and elegance. The husband was a civilian, and old; but the society of the + salon was young and military. Lieut. D’Hubert had whistled, not because + the idea of pursuing Lieut. Feraud into that very salon was disagreeable + to him, but because, having arrived in Strasbourg only lately, he had not + had the time as yet to get an introduction to Madame de Lionne. And what + was that swashbuckler Feraud doing there, he wondered. He did not seem the + sort of man who— + </p> + <p> + “Are you certain of what you say?” asked Lieut. D’Hubert. + </p> + <p> + The girl was perfectly certain. Without turning round to look at him, she + explained that the coachman of their next door neighbours knew the + maitre-d’hotel of Madame de Lionne. In this way she had her information. + And she was perfectly certain. In giving this assurance she sighed. Lieut. + Feraud called there nearly every afternoon, she added. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, bah!” exclaimed D’Hubert, ironically. His opinion of Madame de Lionne + went down several degrees. Lieut. Feraud did not seem to him specially + worthy of attention on the part of a woman with a reputation for + sensibility and elegance. But there was no saying. At bottom they were all + alike—very practical rather than idealistic. Lieut. D’Hubert, + however, did not allow his mind to dwell on these considerations. + </p> + <p> + “By thunder!” he reflected aloud. “The general goes there sometimes. If he + happens to find the fellow making eyes at the lady there will be the devil + to pay! Our general is not a very accommodating person, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Go quickly, then! Don’t stand here now I’ve told you where he is!” cried + the girl, colouring to the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my dear! I don’t know what I would have done without you.” + </p> + <p> + After manifesting his gratitude in an aggressive way, which at first was + repulsed violently, and then submitted to with a sudden and still more + repellent indifference, Lieut. D’Hubert took his departure. + </p> + <p> + He clanked and jingled along the streets with a martial swagger. To run a + comrade to earth in a drawing-room where he was not known did not trouble + him in the least. A uniform is a passport. His position as officier + d’ordonnance of the general added to his assurance. Moreover, now that he + knew where to find Lieut. Feraud, he had no option. It was a service + matter. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Lionne’s house had an excellent appearance. A man in livery, + opening the door of a large drawing-room with a waxed floor, shouted his + name and stood aside to let him pass. It was a reception day. The ladies + wore big hats surcharged with a profusion of feathers; their bodies + sheathed in clinging white gowns, from the armpits to the tips of the low + satin shoes, looked sylph-like and cool in a great display of bare necks + and arms. The men who talked with them, on the contrary, were arrayed + heavily in multi-coloured garments with collars up to their ears and thick + sashes round their waists. Lieut. D’Hubert made his unabashed way across + the room and, bowing low before a sylph-like form reclining on a couch, + offered his apologies for this intrusion, which nothing could excuse but + the extreme urgency of the service order he had to communicate to his + comrade Feraud. He proposed to himself to return presently in a more + regular manner and beg forgiveness for interrupting the interesting + conversation . . . + </p> + <p> + A bare arm was extended towards him with gracious nonchalance even before + he had finished speaking. He pressed the hand respectfully to his lips, + and made the mental remark that it was bony. Madame de Lionne was a + blonde, with too fine a skin and a long face. + </p> + <p> + “C’est ca!” she said, with an ethereal smile, disclosing a set of large + teeth. “Come this evening to plead for your forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not fail, madame.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Lieut. Feraud, splendid in his new dolman and the extremely + polished boots of his calling, sat on a chair within a foot of the couch, + one hand resting on his thigh, the other twirling his moustache to a + point. At a significant glance from D’Hubert he rose without alacrity, and + followed him into the recess of a window. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you want with me?” he asked, with astonishing indifference. + Lieut. D’Hubert could not imagine that in the innocence of his heart and + simplicity of his conscience Lieut. Feraud took a view of his duel in + which neither remorse nor yet a rational apprehension of consequences had + any place. Though he had no clear recollection how the quarrel had + originated (it was begun in an establishment where beer and wine are drunk + late at night), he had not the slightest doubt of being himself the + outraged party. He had had two experienced friends for his seconds. + Everything had been done according to the rules governing that sort of + adventures. And a duel is obviously fought for the purpose of someone + being at least hurt, if not killed outright. The civilian got hurt. That + also was in order. Lieut. Feraud was perfectly tranquil; but Lieut. + D’Hubert took it for affectation, and spoke with a certain vivacity. + </p> + <p> + “I am directed by the general to give you the order to go at once to your + quarters, and remain there under close arrest.” + </p> + <p> + It was now the turn of Lieut. Feraud to be astonished. “What the devil are + you telling me there?” he murmured, faintly, and fell into such profound + wonder that he could only follow mechanically the motions of Lieut. + D’Hubert. The two officers, one tall, with an interesting face and a + moustache the colour of ripe corn, the other, short and sturdy, with a + hooked nose and a thick crop of black curly hair, approached the mistress + of the house to take their leave. Madame de Lionne, a woman of eclectic + taste, smiled upon these armed young men with impartial sensibility and an + equal share of interest. Madame de Lionne took her delight in the infinite + variety of the human species. All the other eyes in the drawing-room + followed the departing officers; and when they had gone out one or two + men, who had already heard of the duel, imparted the information to the + sylph-like ladies, who received it with faint shrieks of humane concern. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, the two hussars walked side by side, Lieut. Feraud trying to + master the hidden reason of things which in this instance eluded the grasp + of his intellect, Lieut. D’Hubert feeling annoyed at the part he had to + play, because the general’s instructions were that he should see + personally that Lieut. Feraud carried out his orders to the letter, and at + once. + </p> + <p> + “The chief seems to know this animal,” he thought, eyeing his companion, + whose round face, the round eyes, and even the twisted-up jet black little + moustache seemed animated by a mental exasperation against the + incomprehensible. And aloud he observed rather reproachfully, “The general + is in a devilish fury with you!” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. Feraud stopped short on the edge of the pavement, and cried in + accents of unmistakable sincerity, “What on earth for?” The innocence of + the fiery Gascon soul was depicted in the manner in which he seized his + head in both hands as if to prevent it bursting with perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “For the duel,” said Lieut. D’Hubert, curtly. He was annoyed greatly by + this sort of perverse fooling. + </p> + <p> + “The duel! The . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. Feraud passed from one paroxysm of astonishment into another. He + dropped his hands and walked on slowly, trying to reconcile this + information with the state of his own feelings. It was impossible. He + burst out indignantly, “Was I to let that sauerkraut-eating civilian wipe + his boots on the uniform of the 7th Hussars?” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert could not remain altogether unmoved by that simple + sentiment. This little fellow was a lunatic, he thought to himself, but + there was something in what he said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I don’t know how far you were justified,” he began, + soothingly. “And the general himself may not be exactly informed. Those + people have been deafening him with their lamentations.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the general is not exactly informed,” mumbled Lieut. Feraud, walking + faster and faster as his choler at the injustice of his fate began to + rise. “He is not exactly . . . And he orders me under close arrest, with + God knows what afterwards!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t excite yourself like this,” remonstrated the other. “Your + adversary’s people are very influential, you know, and it looks bad enough + on the face of it. The general had to take notice of their complaint at + once. I don’t think he means to be over-severe with you. It’s the best + thing for you to be kept out of sight for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very much obliged to the general,” muttered Lieut. Feraud through + his teeth. “And perhaps you would say I ought to be grateful to you, too, + for the trouble you have taken to hunt me up in the drawing-room of a lady + who—” + </p> + <p> + “Frankly,” interrupted Lieut. D’Hubert, with an innocent laugh, “I think + you ought to be. I had no end of trouble to find out where you were. It + wasn’t exactly the place for you to disport yourself in under the + circumstances. If the general had caught you there making eyes at the + goddess of the temple . . . oh, my word! . . . He hates to be bothered + with complaints against his officers, you know. And it looked uncommonly + like sheer bravado.” + </p> + <p> + The two officers had arrived now at the street door of Lieut. Feraud’s + lodgings. The latter turned towards his companion. “Lieut. D’Hubert,” he + said, “I have something to say to you, which can’t be said very well in + the street. You can’t refuse to come up.” + </p> + <p> + The pretty maid had opened the door. Lieut. Feraud brushed past her + brusquely, and she raised her scared and questioning eyes to Lieut. + D’Hubert, who could do nothing but shrug his shoulders slightly as he + followed with marked reluctance. + </p> + <p> + In his room Lieut. Feraud unhooked the clasp, flung his new dolman on the + bed, and, folding his arms across his chest, turned to the other hussar. + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine I am a man to submit tamely to injustice?” he inquired, in + a boisterous voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do be reasonable!” remonstrated Lieut. D’Hubert. + </p> + <p> + “I am reasonable! I am perfectly reasonable!” retorted the other with + ominous restraint. “I can’t call the general to account for his behaviour, + but you are going to answer me for yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t listen to this nonsense,” murmured Lieut. D’Hubert, making a + slightly contemptuous grimace. + </p> + <p> + “You call this nonsense? It seems to me a perfectly plain statement. + Unless you don’t understand French.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” screamed suddenly Lieut. Feraud, “to cut off your ears to teach + you to disturb me with the general’s orders when I am talking to a lady!” + </p> + <p> + A profound silence followed this mad declaration; and through the open + window Lieut. D’Hubert heard the little birds singing sanely in the + garden. He said, preserving his calm, “Why! If you take that tone, of + course I shall hold myself at your disposition whenever you are at liberty + to attend to this affair; but I don’t think you will cut my ears off.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to attend to it at once,” declared Lieut. Feraud, with extreme + truculence. “If you are thinking of displaying your airs and graces + to-night in Madame de Lionne’s salon you are very much mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” said Lieut. D’Hubert, who was beginning to feel irritated, “you + are an impracticable sort of fellow. The general’s orders to me were to + put you under arrest, not to carve you into small pieces. Good-morning!” + And turning his back on the little Gascon, who, always sober in his + potations, was as though born intoxicated with the sunshine of his + vine-ripening country, the Northman, who could drink hard on occasion, but + was born sober under the watery skies of Picardy, made for the door. + Hearing, however, the unmistakable sound behind his back of a sword drawn + from the scabbard, he had no option but to stop. + </p> + <p> + “Devil take this mad Southerner!” he thought, spinning round and surveying + with composure the warlike posture of Lieut. Feraud, with a bare sword in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “At once!—at once!” stuttered Feraud, beside himself. + </p> + <p> + “You had my answer,” said the other, keeping his temper very well. + </p> + <p> + At first he had been only vexed, and somewhat amused; but now his face got + clouded. He was asking himself seriously how he could manage to get away. + It was impossible to run from a man with a sword, and as to fighting him, + it seemed completely out of the question. He waited awhile, then said + exactly what was in his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Drop this! I won’t fight with you. I won’t be made ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you won’t?” hissed the Gascon. “I suppose you prefer to be made + infamous. Do you hear what I say? . . . Infamous! Infamous! Infamous!” he + shrieked, rising and falling on his toes and getting very red in the face. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert, on the contrary, became very pale at the sound of the + unsavoury word for a moment, then flushed pink to the roots of his fair + hair. “But you can’t go out to fight; you are under arrest, you lunatic!” + he objected, with angry scorn. + </p> + <p> + “There’s the garden: it’s big enough to lay out your long carcass in,” + spluttered the other with such ardour that somehow the anger of the cooler + man subsided. + </p> + <p> + “This is perfectly absurd,” he said, glad enough to think he had found a + way out of it for the moment. “We shall never get any of our comrades to + serve as seconds. It’s preposterous.” + </p> + <p> + “Seconds! Damn the seconds! We don’t want any seconds. Don’t you worry + about any seconds. I shall send word to your friends to come and bury you + when I am done. And if you want any witnesses, I’ll send word to the old + girl to put her head out of a window at the back. Stay! There’s the + gardener. He’ll do. He’s as deaf as a post, but he has two eyes in his + head. Come along! I will teach you, my staff officer, that the carrying + about of a general’s orders is not always child’s play.” + </p> + <p> + While thus discoursing he had unbuckled his empty scabbard. He sent it + flying under the bed, and, lowering the point of the sword, brushed past + the perplexed Lieut. D’Hubert, exclaiming, “Follow me!” Directly he had + flung open the door a faint shriek was heard and the pretty maid, who had + been listening at the keyhole, staggered away, putting the backs of her + hands over her eyes. Feraud did not seem to see her, but she ran after him + and seized his left arm. He shook her off, and then she rushed towards + Lieut. D’Hubert and clawed at the sleeve of his uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Wretched man!” she sobbed. “Is this what you wanted to find him for?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” entreated Lieut. D’Hubert, trying to disengage himself + gently. “It’s like being in a madhouse,” he protested, with exasperation. + “Do let me go! I won’t do him any harm.” + </p> + <p> + A fiendish laugh from Lieut. Feraud commented that assurance. “Come + along!” he shouted, with a stamp of his foot. + </p> + <p> + And Lieut. D’Hubert did follow. He could do nothing else. Yet in + vindication of his sanity it must be recorded that as he passed through + the ante-room the notion of opening the street door and bolting out + presented itself to this brave youth, only of course to be instantly + dismissed, for he felt sure that the other would pursue him without shame + or compunction. And the prospect of an officer of hussars being chased + along the street by another officer of hussars with a naked sword could + not be for a moment entertained. Therefore he followed into the garden. + Behind them the girl tottered out, too. With ashy lips and wild, scared + eyes, she surrendered herself to a dreadful curiosity. She had also the + notion of rushing if need be between Lieut. Feraud and death. + </p> + <p> + The deaf gardener, utterly unconscious of approaching footsteps, went on + watering his flowers till Lieut. Feraud thumped him on the back. Beholding + suddenly an enraged man flourishing a big sabre, the old chap trembling in + all his limbs dropped the watering-pot. At once Lieut. Feraud kicked it + away with great animosity, and, seizing the gardener by the throat, backed + him against a tree. He held him there, shouting in his ear, “Stay here, + and look on! You understand? You’ve got to look on! Don’t dare budge from + the spot!” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert came slowly down the walk, unclasping his dolman with + unconcealed disgust. Even then, with his hand already on the hilt of his + sword, he hesitated to draw till a roar, “En garde, fichtre! What do you + think you came here for?” and the rush of his adversary forced him to put + himself as quickly as possible in a posture of defence. + </p> + <p> + The clash of arms filled that prim garden, which hitherto had known no + more warlike sound than the click of clipping shears; and presently the + upper part of an old lady’s body was projected out of a window upstairs. + She tossed her arms above her white cap, scolding in a cracked voice. The + gardener remained glued to the tree, his toothless mouth open in idiotic + astonishment, and a little farther up the path the pretty girl, as if + spellbound to a small grass plot, ran a few steps this way and that, + wringing her hands and muttering crazily. She did not rush between the + combatants: the onslaughts of Lieut. Feraud were so fierce that her heart + failed her. Lieut. D’Hubert, his faculties concentrated upon defence, + needed all his skill and science of the sword to stop the rushes of his + adversary. Twice already he had to break ground. It bothered him to feel + his foothold made insecure by the round, dry gravel of the path rolling + under the hard soles of his boots. This was most unsuitable ground, he + thought, keeping a watchful, narrowed gaze, shaded by long eyelashes, upon + the fiery stare of his thick-set adversary. This absurd affair would ruin + his reputation of a sensible, well-behaved, promising young officer. It + would damage, at any rate, his immediate prospects, and lose him the + good-will of his general. These worldly preoccupations were no doubt + misplaced in view of the solemnity of the moment. A duel, whether regarded + as a ceremony in the cult of honour, or even when reduced in its moral + essence to a form of manly sport, demands a perfect singleness of + intention, a homicidal austerity of mood. On the other hand, this vivid + concern for his future had not a bad effect inasmuch as it began to rouse + the anger of Lieut. D’Hubert. Some seventy seconds had elapsed since they + had crossed blades, and Lieut. D’Hubert had to break ground again in order + to avoid impaling his reckless adversary like a beetle for a cabinet of + specimens. The result was that misapprehending the motive, Lieut. Feraud + with a triumphant sort of snarl pressed his attack. + </p> + <p> + “This enraged animal will have me against the wall directly,” thought + Lieut. D’Hubert. He imagined himself much closer to the house than he was, + and he dared not turn his head; it seemed to him that he was keeping his + adversary off with his eyes rather more than with his point. Lieut. Feraud + crouched and bounded with a fierce tigerish agility fit to trouble the + stoutest heart. But what was more appalling than the fury of a wild beast, + accomplishing in all innocence of heart a natural function, was the fixity + of savage purpose man alone is capable of displaying. Lieut. D ‘Hubert in + the midst of his worldly preoccupations perceived it at last. It was an + absurd and damaging affair to be drawn into, but whatever silly intention + the fellow had started with, it was clear enough that by this time he + meant to kill—nothing less. He meant it with an intensity of will + utterly beyond the inferior faculties of a tiger. + </p> + <p> + As is the case with constitutionally brave men, the full view of the + danger interested Lieut. D’Hubert. And directly he got properly + interested, the length of his arm and the coolness of his head told in his + favour. It was the turn of Lieut. Feraud to recoil, with a bloodcurdling + grunt of baffled rage. He made a swift feint, and then rushed straight + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you would, would you?” Lieut. D’Hubert exclaimed, mentally. The + combat had lasted nearly two minutes, time enough for any man to get + embittered, apart from the merits of the quarrel. And all at once it was + over. Trying to close breast to breast under his adversary’s guard Lieut. + Feraud received a slash on his shortened arm. He did not feel it in the + least, but it checked his rush, and his feet slipping on the gravel he + fell backwards with great violence. The shock jarred his boiling brain + into the perfect quietude of insensibility. Simultaneously with his fall + the pretty servant-girl shrieked; but the old maiden lady at the window + ceased her scolding, and began to cross herself piously. + </p> + <p> + Beholding his adversary stretched out perfectly still, his face to the + sky, Lieut. D’Hubert thought he had killed him outright. The impression of + having slashed hard enough to cut his man clean in two abode with him for + a while in an exaggerated memory of the right good-will he had put into + the blow. He dropped on his knees hastily by the side of the prostrate + body. Discovering that not even the arm was severed, a slight sense of + disappointment mingled with the feeling of relief. The fellow deserved the + worst. But truly he did not want the death of that sinner. The affair was + ugly enough as it stood, and Lieut. D’Hubert addressed himself at once to + the task of stopping the bleeding. In this task it was his fate to be + ridiculously impeded by the pretty maid. Rending the air with screams of + horror, she attacked him from behind and, twining her fingers in his hair, + tugged back at his head. Why she should choose to hinder him at this + precise moment he could not in the least understand. He did not try. It + was all like a very wicked and harassing dream. Twice to save himself from + being pulled over he had to rise and fling her off. He did this stoically, + without a word, kneeling down again at once to go on with his work. But + the third time, his work being done, he seized her and held her arms + pinned to her body. Her cap was half off, her face was red, her eyes + blazed with crazy boldness. He looked mildly into them while she called + him a wretch, a traitor, and a murderer many times in succession. This did + not annoy him so much as the conviction that she had managed to scratch + his face abundantly. Ridicule would be added to the scandal of the story. + He imagined the adorned tale making its way through the garrison of the + town, through the whole army on the frontier, with every possible + distortion of motive and sentiment and circumstance, spreading a doubt + upon the sanity of his conduct and the distinction of his taste even to + the very ears of his honourable family. It was all very well for that + fellow Feraud, who had no connections, no family to speak of, and no + quality but courage, which, anyhow, was a matter of course, and possessed + by every single trooper in the whole mass of French cavalry. Still holding + down the arms of the girl in a strong grip, Lieut. D’Hubert glanced over + his shoulder. Lieut. Feraud had opened his eyes. He did not move. Like a + man just waking from a deep sleep he stared without any expression at the + evening sky. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert’s urgent shouts to the old gardener produced no effect—not + so much as to make him shut his toothless mouth. Then he remembered that + the man was stone deaf. All that time the girl struggled, not with + maidenly coyness, but like a pretty, dumb fury, kicking his shins now and + then. He continued to hold her as if in a vice, his instinct telling him + that were he to let her go she would fly at his eyes. But he was greatly + humiliated by his position. At last she gave up. She was more exhausted + than appeased, he feared. Nevertheless, he attempted to get out of this + wicked dream by way of negotiation. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” he said, as calmly as he could. “Will you promise to run + for a surgeon if I let you go?” + </p> + <p> + With real affliction he heard her declare that she would do nothing of the + kind. On the contrary, her sobbed out intention was to remain in the + garden, and fight tooth and nail for the protection of the vanquished man. + This was shocking. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child!” he cried in despair, “is it possible that you think me + capable of murdering a wounded adversary? Is it. . . . Be quiet, you + little wild cat, you!” + </p> + <p> + They struggled. A thick, drowsy voice said behind him, “What are you after + with that girl?” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. Feraud had raised himself on his good arm. He was looking sleepily + at his other arm, at the mess of blood on his uniform, at a small red pool + on the ground, at his sabre lying a foot away on the path. Then he laid + himself down gently again to think it all out, as far as a thundering + headache would permit of mental operations. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert released the girl who crouched at once by the side of the + other lieutenant. The shades of night were falling on the little trim + garden with this touching group, whence proceeded low murmurs of sorrow + and compassion, with other feeble sounds of a different character, as if + an imperfectly awake invalid were trying to swear. Lieut. D’Hubert went + away. + </p> + <p> + He passed through the silent house, and congratulated himself upon the + dusk concealing his gory hands and scratched face from the passers-by. But + this story could by no means be concealed. He dreaded the discredit and + ridicule above everything, and was painfully aware of sneaking through the + back streets in the manner of a murderer. Presently the sounds of a flute + coming out of the open window of a lighted upstairs room in a modest house + interrupted his dismal reflections. It was being played with a persevering + virtuosity, and through the fioritures of the tune one could hear the + regular thumping of the foot beating time on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert shouted a name, which was that of an army surgeon whom he + knew fairly well. The sounds of the flute ceased, and the musician + appeared at the window, his instrument still in his hand, peering into the + street. + </p> + <p> + “Who calls? You, D’Hubert? What brings you this way?” + </p> + <p> + He did not like to be disturbed at the hour when he was playing the flute. + He was a man whose hair had turned grey already in the thankless task of + tying up wounds on battlefields where others reaped advancement and glory. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to go at once and see Feraud. You know Lieut. Feraud? He lives + down the second street. It’s but a step from here.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” cried D’Hubert. “I come from there.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s amusing,” said the elderly surgeon. Amusing was his favourite + word; but the expression of his face when he pronounced it never + corresponded. He was a stolid man. “Come in,” he added. “I’ll get ready in + a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks! I will. I want to wash my hands in your room.” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert found the surgeon occupied in unscrewing his flute, and + packing the pieces methodically in a case. He turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “Water there—in the corner. Your hands do want washing.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve stopped the bleeding,” said Lieut. D’Hubert. “But you had better + make haste. It’s rather more than ten minutes ago, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon did not hurry his movements. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter? Dressing came off? That’s amusing. I’ve been at work + in the hospital all day but I’ve been told this morning by somebody that + he had come off without a scratch.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the same duel probably,” growled moodily Lieut. D’Hubert, wiping his + hands on a coarse towel. + </p> + <p> + “Not the same. . . . What? Another. It would take the very devil to make + me go out twice in one day.” The surgeon looked narrowly at Lieut. + D’Hubert. “How did you come by that scratched face? Both sides, too—and + symmetrical. It’s amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Very!” snarled Lieut. D’Hubert. “And you will find his slashed arm + amusing, too. It will keep both of you amused for quite a long time.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor was mystified and impressed by the brusque bitterness of Lieut. + D’Hubert’s tone. They left the house together, and in the street he was + still more mystified by his conduct. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you coming with me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lieut. D’Hubert. “You can find the house by yourself. The front + door will be standing open very likely.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Where’s his room?” + </p> + <p> + “Ground floor. But you had better go right through and look in the garden + first.” + </p> + <p> + This astonishing piece of information made the surgeon go off without + further parley. Lieut. D’Hubert regained his quarters nursing a hot and + uneasy indignation. He dreaded the chaff of his comrades almost as much as + the anger of his superiors. The truth was confoundedly grotesque and + embarrassing, even putting aside the irregularity of the combat itself, + which made it come abominably near a criminal offence. Like all men + without much imagination, a faculty which helps the process of reflective + thought, Lieut. D’Hubert became frightfully harassed by the obvious + aspects of his predicament. He was certainly glad that he had not killed + Lieut. Feraud outside all rules, and without the regular witnesses proper + to such a transaction. Uncommonly glad. At the same time he felt as though + he would have liked to wring his neck for him without ceremony. + </p> + <p> + He was still under the sway of these contradictory sentiments when the + surgeon amateur of the flute came to see him. More than three days had + elapsed. Lieut. D’Hubert was no longer officier d’ordonnance to the + general commanding the division. He had been sent back to his regiment. + And he was resuming his connection with the soldiers’ military family by + being shut up in close confinement, not at his own quarters in town, but + in a room in the barracks. Owing to the gravity of the incident, he was + forbidden to see any one. He did not know what had happened, what was + being said, or what was being thought. The arrival of the surgeon was a + most unexpected thing to the worried captive. The amateur of the flute + began by explaining that he was there only by a special favour of the + colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I represented to him that it would be only fair to let you have some + authentic news of your adversary,” he continued. “You’ll be glad to hear + he’s getting better fast.” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert’s face exhibited no conventional signs of gladness. He + continued to walk the floor of the dusty bare room. + </p> + <p> + “Take this chair, doctor,” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + The doctor sat down. + </p> + <p> + “This affair is variously appreciated—in town and in the army. In + fact, the diversity of opinions is amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it!” mumbled Lieut. D’Hubert, tramping steadily from wall to wall. But + within himself he marvelled that there could be two opinions on the + matter. The surgeon continued. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, as the real facts are not known—” + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought,” interrupted D’Hubert, “that the fellow would have + put you in possession of facts.” + </p> + <p> + “He said something,” admitted the other, “the first time I saw him. And, + by the by, I did find him in the garden. The thump on the back of his head + had made him a little incoherent then. Afterwards he was rather reticent + than otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t think he would have the grace to be ashamed!” mumbled D’Hubert, + resuming his pacing while the doctor murmured, “It’s very amusing. + Ashamed! Shame was not exactly his frame of mind. However, you may look at + the matter otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about? What matter?” asked D’Hubert, with a sidelong + look at the heavy-faced, grey-haired figure seated on a wooden chair. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever it is,” said the surgeon a little impatiently, “I don’t want to + pronounce any opinion on your conduct—” + </p> + <p> + “By heavens, you had better not!” burst out D’Hubert. + </p> + <p> + “There!—there! Don’t be so quick in flourishing the sword. It + doesn’t pay in the long run. Understand once for all that I would not + carve any of you youngsters except with the tools of my trade. But my + advice is good. If you go on like this you will make for yourself an ugly + reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on like what?” demanded Lieut. D’Hubert, stopping short, quite + startled. “I!—I!—make for myself a reputation. . . . What do + you imagine?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I don’t wish to judge of the rights and wrongs of this + incident. It’s not my business. Nevertheless—” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth has he been telling you?” interrupted Lieut. D’Hubert, in a + sort of awed scare. + </p> + <p> + “I told you already, that at first, when I picked him up in the garden, he + was incoherent. Afterwards he was naturally reticent. But I gather at + least that he could not help himself.” + </p> + <p> + “He couldn’t?” shouted Lieut. D’Hubert in a great voice. Then, lowering + his tone impressively, “And what about me? Could I help myself?” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon stood up. His thoughts were running upon the flute, his + constant companion with a consoling voice. In the vicinity of field + ambulances, after twenty-four hours’ hard work, he had been known to + trouble with its sweet sounds the horrible stillness of battlefields, + given over to silence and the dead. The solacing hour of his daily life + was approaching, and in peace time he held on to the minutes as a miser to + his hoard. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!—of course!” he said, perfunctorily. “You would think so. + It’s amusing. However, being perfectly neutral and friendly to you both, I + have consented to deliver his message to you. Say that I am humouring an + invalid if you like. He wants you to know that this affair is by no means + at an end. He intends to send you his seconds directly he has regained his + strength—providing, of course, the army is not in the field at that + time.” + </p> + <p> + “He intends, does he? Why, certainly,” spluttered Lieut. D’Hubert in a + passion. + </p> + <p> + The secret of his exasperation was not apparent to the visitor; but this + passion confirmed the surgeon in the belief which was gaining ground + outside that some very serious difference had arisen between these two + young men, something serious enough to wear an air of mystery, some fact + of the utmost gravity. To settle their urgent difference about that fact, + those two young men had risked being broken and disgraced at the outset + almost of their career. The surgeon feared that the forthcoming inquiry + would fail to satisfy the public curiosity. They would not take the public + into their confidence as to that something which had passed between them + of a nature so outrageous as to make them face a charge of murder—neither + more nor less. But what could it be? + </p> + <p> + The surgeon was not very curious by temperament; but that question + haunting his mind caused him twice that evening to hold the instrument off + his lips and sit silent for a whole minute—right in the middle of a + tune—trying to form a plausible conjecture. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + He succeeded in this object no better than the rest of the garrison and + the whole of society. The two young officers, of no especial consequence + till then, became distinguished by the universal curiosity as to the + origin of their quarrel. Madame de Lionne’s salon was the centre of + ingenious surmises; that lady herself was for a time assailed by inquiries + as being the last person known to have spoken to these unhappy and + reckless young men before they went out together from her house to a + savage encounter with swords, at dusk, in a private garden. She protested + she had not observed anything unusual in their demeanour. Lieut. Feraud + had been visibly annoyed at being called away. That was natural enough; no + man likes to be disturbed in a conversation with a lady famed for her + elegance and sensibility. But in truth the subject bored Madame de Lionne, + since her personality could by no stretch of reckless gossip be connected + with this affair. And it irritated her to hear it advanced that there + might have been some woman in the case. This irritation arose, not from + her elegance or sensibility, but from a more instinctive side of her + nature. It became so great at last that she peremptorily forbade the + subject to be mentioned under her roof. Near her couch the prohibition was + obeyed, but farther off in the salon the pall of the imposed silence + continued to be lifted more or less. A personage with a long, pale face, + resembling the countenance of a sheep, opined, shaking his head, that it + was a quarrel of long standing envenomed by time. It was objected to him + that the men themselves were too young for such a theory. They belonged + also to different and distant parts of France. There were other physical + impossibilities, too. A sub-commissary of the Intendence, an agreeable and + cultivated bachelor in kerseymere breeches, Hessian boots, and a blue coat + embroidered with silver lace, who affected to believe in the + transmigration of souls, suggested that the two had met perhaps in some + previous existence. The feud was in the forgotten past. It might have been + something quite inconceivable in the present state of their being; but + their souls remembered the animosity, and manifested an instinctive + antagonism. He developed this theme jocularly. Yet the affair was so + absurd from the worldly, the military, the honourable, or the prudential + point of view, that this weird explanation seemed rather more reasonable + than any other. + </p> + <p> + The two officers had confided nothing definite to any one. Humiliation at + having been worsted arms in hand, and an uneasy feeling of having been + involved in a scrape by the injustice of fate, kept Lieut. Feraud savagely + dumb. He mistrusted the sympathy of mankind. That would, of course, go to + that dandified staff officer. Lying in bed, he raved aloud to the pretty + maid who administered to his needs with devotion, and listened to his + horrible imprecations with alarm. That Lieut. D’Hubert should be made to + “pay for it,” seemed to her just and natural. Her principal care was that + Lieut. Feraud should not excite himself. He appeared so wholly admirable + and fascinating to the humility of her heart that her only concern was to + see him get well quickly, even if it were only to resume his visits to + Madame de Lionne’s salon. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert kept silent for the immediate reason that there was no + one, except a stupid young soldier servant, to speak to. Further, he was + aware that the episode, so grave professionally, had its comic side. When + reflecting upon it, he still felt that he would like to wring Lieut. + Feraud’s neck for him. But this formula was figurative rather than + precise, and expressed more a state of mind than an actual physical + impulse. At the same time, there was in that young man a feeling of + comradeship and kindness which made him unwilling to make the position of + Lieut. Feraud worse than it was. He did not want to talk at large about + this wretched affair. At the inquiry he would have, of course, to speak + the truth in self-defence. This prospect vexed him. + </p> + <p> + But no inquiry took place. The army took the field instead. Lieut. + D’Hubert, liberated without remark, took up his regimental duties; and + Lieut. Feraud, his arm just out of the sling, rode unquestioned with his + squadron to complete his convalescence in the smoke of battlefields and + the fresh air of night bivouacs. This bracing treatment suited him so + well, that at the first rumour of an armistice being signed he could turn + without misgivings to the thoughts of his private warfare. + </p> + <p> + This time it was to be regular warfare. He sent two friends to Lieut. + D’Hubert, whose regiment was stationed only a few miles away. Those + friends had asked no questions of their principal. “I owe him one, that + pretty staff officer,” he had said, grimly, and they went away quite + contentedly on their mission. Lieut. D’Hubert had no difficulty in finding + two friends equally discreet and devoted to their principal. “There’s a + crazy fellow to whom I must give a lesson,” he had declared curtly; and + they asked for no better reasons. + </p> + <p> + On these grounds an encounter with duelling-swords was arranged one early + morning in a convenient field. At the third set-to Lieut. D’Hubert found + himself lying on his back on the dewy grass with a hole in his side. A + serene sun rising over a landscape of meadows and woods hung on his left. + A surgeon—not the flute player, but another—was bending over + him, feeling around the wound. + </p> + <p> + “Narrow squeak. But it will be nothing,” he pronounced. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert heard these words with pleasure. One of his seconds, + sitting on the wet grass, and sustaining his head on his lap, said, “The + fortune of war, mon pauvre vieux. What will you have? You had better make + it up like two good fellows. Do!” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what you ask,” murmured Lieut. D’Hubert, in a feeble + voice. “However, if he . . .” + </p> + <p> + In another part of the meadow the seconds of Lieut. Feraud were urging him + to go over and shake hands with his adversary. + </p> + <p> + “You have paid him off now—que diable. It’s the proper thing to do. + This D’Hubert is a decent fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the decency of these generals’ pets,” muttered Lieut. Feraud + through his teeth, and the sombre expression of his face discouraged + further efforts at reconciliation. The seconds, bowing from a distance, + took their men off the field. In the afternoon Lieut. D’Hubert, very + popular as a good comrade uniting great bravery with a frank and equable + temper, had many visitors. It was remarked that Lieut. Feraud did not, as + is customary, show himself much abroad to receive the felicitations of his + friends. They would not have failed him, because he, too, was liked for + the exuberance of his southern nature and the simplicity of his character. + In all the places where officers were in the habit of assembling at the + end of the day the duel of the morning was talked over from every point of + view. Though Lieut. D’Hubert had got worsted this time, his sword play was + commended. No one could deny that it was very close, very scientific. It + was even whispered that if he got touched it was because he wished to + spare his adversary. But by many the vigour and dash of Lieut. Feraud’s + attack were pronounced irresistible. + </p> + <p> + The merits of the two officers as combatants were frankly discussed; but + their attitude to each other after the duel was criticised lightly and + with caution. It was irreconcilable, and that was to be regretted. But + after all they knew best what the care of their honour dictated. It was + not a matter for their comrades to pry into over-much. As to the origin of + the quarrel, the general impression was that it dated from the time they + were holding garrison in Strasbourg. The musical surgeon shook his head at + that. It went much farther back, he thought. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course! You must know the whole story,” cried several voices, + eager with curiosity. “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes from his glass deliberately. “Even if I knew ever so + well, you can’t expect me to tell you, since both the principals choose to + say nothing.” + </p> + <p> + He got up and went out, leaving the sense of mystery behind him. He could + not stay any longer, because the witching hour of flute-playing was + drawing near. + </p> + <p> + After he had gone a very young officer observed solemnly, “Obviously, his + lips are sealed!” + </p> + <p> + Nobody questioned the high correctness of that remark. Somehow it added to + the impressiveness of the affair. Several older officers of both + regiments, prompted by nothing but sheer kindness and love of harmony, + proposed to form a Court of Honour, to which the two young men would leave + the task of their reconciliation. Unfortunately they began by approaching + Lieut. Feraud, on the assumption that, having just scored heavily, he + would be found placable and disposed to moderation. + </p> + <p> + The reasoning was sound enough. Nevertheless, the move turned out + unfortunate. In that relaxation of moral fibre, which is brought about by + the ease of soothed vanity, Lieut. Feraud had condescended in the secret + of his heart to review the case, and even had come to doubt not the + justice of his cause, but the absolute sagacity of his conduct. This being + so, he was disinclined to talk about it. The suggestion of the regimental + wise men put him in a difficult position. He was disgusted at it, and this + disgust, by a paradoxical logic, reawakened his animosity against Lieut. + D’Hubert. Was he to be pestered with this fellow for ever—the fellow + who had an infernal knack of getting round people somehow? And yet it was + difficult to refuse point blank that mediation sanctioned by the code of + honour. + </p> + <p> + He met the difficulty by an attitude of grim reserve. He twisted his + moustache and used vague words. His case was perfectly clear. He was not + ashamed to state it before a proper Court of Honour, neither was he afraid + to defend it on the ground. He did not see any reason to jump at the + suggestion before ascertaining how his adversary was likely to take it. + </p> + <p> + Later in the day, his exasperation growing upon him, he was heard in a + public place saying sardonically, “that it would be the very luckiest + thing for Lieut. D’Hubert, because the next time of meeting he need not + hope to get off with the mere trifle of three weeks in bed.” + </p> + <p> + This boastful phrase might have been prompted by the most profound + Machiavellism. Southern natures often hide, under the outward + impulsiveness of action and speech, a certain amount of astuteness. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. Feraud, mistrusting the justice of men, by no means desired a Court + of Honour; and the above words, according so well with his temperament, + had also the merit of serving his turn. Whether meant so or not, they + found their way in less than four-and-twenty hours into Lieut. D’Hubert’s + bedroom. In consequence Lieut. D’Hubert, sitting propped up with pillows, + received the overtures made to him next day by the statement that the + affair was of a nature which could not bear discussion. + </p> + <p> + The pale face of the wounded officer, his weak voice which he had yet to + use cautiously, and the courteous dignity of his tone had a great effect + on his hearers. Reported outside all this did more for deepening the + mystery than the vapourings of Lieut. Feraud. This last was greatly + relieved at the issue. He began to enjoy the state of general wonder, and + was pleased to add to it by assuming an attitude of fierce discretion. + </p> + <p> + The colonel of Lieut. D’Hubert’s regiment was a grey-haired, + weather-beaten warrior, who took a simple view of his responsibilities. “I + can’t,” he said to himself, “let the best of my subalterns get damaged + like this for nothing. I must get to the bottom of this affair privately. + He must speak out if the devil were in it. The colonel should be more than + a father to these youngsters.” And indeed he loved all his men with as + much affection as a father of a large family can feel for every individual + member of it. If human beings by an oversight of Providence came into the + world as mere civilians, they were born again into a regiment as infants + are born into a family, and it was that military birth alone which + counted. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of Lieut. D’Hubert standing before him very bleached and + hollow-eyed the heart of the old warrior felt a pang of genuine + compassion. All his affection for the regiment—that body of men + which he held in his hand to launch forward and draw back, who ministered + to his pride and commanded all his thoughts—seemed centred for a + moment on the person of the most promising subaltern. He cleared his + throat in a threatening manner, and frowned terribly. “You must + understand,” he began, “that I don’t care a rap for the life of a single + man in the regiment. I would send the eight hundred and forty-three of you + men and horses galloping into the pit of perdition with no more + compunction than I would kill a fly!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Colonel. You would be riding at our head,” said Lieut. D’Hubert with + a wan smile. + </p> + <p> + The colonel, who felt the need of being very diplomatic, fairly roared at + this. “I want you to know, Lieut. D’Hubert, that I could stand aside and + see you all riding to Hades if need be. I am a man to do even that if the + good of the service and my duty to my country required it from me. But + that’s unthinkable, so don’t you even hint at such a thing.” He glared + awfully, but his tone softened. “There’s some milk yet about that + moustache of yours, my boy. You don’t know what a man like me is capable + of. I would hide behind a haystack if . . . Don’t grin at me, sir! How + dare you? If this were not a private conversation I would . . . Look here! + I am responsible for the proper expenditure of lives under my command for + the glory of our country and the honour of the regiment. Do you understand + that? Well, then, what the devil do you mean by letting yourself be + spitted like this by that fellow of the 7th Hussars? It’s simply + disgraceful!” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert felt vexed beyond measure. His shoulders moved slightly. + He made no other answer. He could not ignore his responsibility. + </p> + <p> + The colonel veiled his glance and lowered his voice still more. “It’s + deplorable!” he murmured. And again he changed his tone. “Come!” he went + on, persuasively, but with that note of authority which dwells in the + throat of a good leader of men, “this affair must be settled. I desire to + be told plainly what it is all about. I demand, as your best friend, to + know.” + </p> + <p> + The compelling power of authority, the persuasive influence of kindness, + affected powerfully a man just risen from a bed of sickness. Lieut. + D’Hubert’s hand, which grasped the knob of a stick, trembled slightly. But + his northern temperament, sentimental yet cautious and clear-sighted, too, + in its idealistic way, checked his impulse to make a clean breast of the + whole deadly absurdity. According to the precept of transcendental wisdom, + he turned his tongue seven times in his mouth before he spoke. He made + then only a speech of thanks. + </p> + <p> + The colonel listened, interested at first, then looked mystified. At last + he frowned. “You hesitate?—mille tonnerres! Haven’t I told you that + I will condescend to argue with you—as a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Colonel!” answered Lieut. D’Hubert, gently. “But I am afraid that + after you have heard me out as a friend you will take action as my + superior officer.” + </p> + <p> + The attentive colonel snapped his jaws. “Well, what of that?” he said, + frankly. “Is it so damnably disgraceful?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not,” negatived Lieut. D’Hubert, in a faint but firm voice. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I shall act for the good of the service. Nothing can prevent + me doing that. What do you think I want to be told for?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it is not from idle curiosity,” protested Lieut. D’Hubert. “I know + you will act wisely. But what about the good fame of the regiment?” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be affected by any youthful folly of a lieutenant,” said the + colonel, severely. + </p> + <p> + “No. It cannot be. But it can be by evil tongues. It will be said that a + lieutenant of the 4th Hussars, afraid of meeting his adversary, is hiding + behind his colonel. And that would be worse than hiding behind a haystack—for + the good of the service. I cannot afford to do that, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody would dare to say anything of the kind,” began the colonel very + fiercely, but ended the phrase on an uncertain note. The bravery of Lieut. + D’Hubert was well known. But the colonel was well aware that the duelling + courage, the single combat courage, is rightly or wrongly supposed to be + courage of a special sort. And it was eminently necessary that an officer + of his regiment should possess every kind of courage—and prove it, + too. The colonel stuck out his lower lip, and looked far away with a + peculiar glazed stare. This was the expression of his perplexity—an + expression practically unknown to his regiment; for perplexity is a + sentiment which is incompatible with the rank of colonel of cavalry. The + colonel himself was overcome by the unpleasant novelty of the sensation. + As he was not accustomed to think except on professional matters connected + with the welfare of men and horses, and the proper use thereof on the + field of glory, his intellectual efforts degenerated into mere mental + repetitions of profane language. “Mille tonnerres! . . . Sacre nom de nom + . . .” he thought. + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert coughed painfully, and added in a weary voice: “There will + be plenty of evil tongues to say that I’ve been cowed. And I am sure you + will not expect me to pass that over. I may find myself suddenly with a + dozen duels on my hands instead of this one affair.” + </p> + <p> + The direct simplicity of this argument came home to the colonel’s + understanding. He looked at his subordinate fixedly. “Sit down, + Lieutenant!” he said, gruffly. “This is the very devil of a . . . Sit + down!” + </p> + <p> + “Mon Colonel,” D’Hubert began again, “I am not afraid of evil tongues. + There’s a way of silencing them. But there’s my peace of mind, too. I + wouldn’t be able to shake off the notion that I’ve ruined a brother + officer. Whatever action you take, it is bound to go farther. The inquiry + has been dropped—let it rest now. It would have been absolutely + fatal to Feraud.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey! What! Did he behave so badly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It was pretty bad,” muttered Lieut. D’Hubert. Being still very weak, + he felt a disposition to cry. + </p> + <p> + As the other man did not belong to his own regiment the colonel had no + difficulty in believing this. He began to pace up and down the room. He + was a good chief, a man capable of discreet sympathy. But he was human in + other ways, too, and this became apparent because he was not capable of + artifice. + </p> + <p> + “The very devil, Lieutenant,” he blurted out, in the innocence of his + heart, “is that I have declared my intention to get to the bottom of this + affair. And when a colonel says something . . . you see . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert broke in earnestly: “Let me entreat you, Colonel, to be + satisfied with taking my word of honour that I was put into a damnable + position where I had no option; I had no choice whatever, consistent with + my dignity as a man and an officer. . . . After all, Colonel, this fact is + the very bottom of this affair. Here you’ve got it. The rest is mere + detail. . . .” + </p> + <p> + The colonel stopped short. The reputation of Lieut. D’Hubert for good + sense and good temper weighed in the balance. A cool head, a warm heart, + open as the day. Always correct in his behaviour. One had to trust him. + The colonel repressed manfully an immense curiosity. “H’m! You affirm that + as a man and an officer. . . . No option? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “As an officer—an officer of the 4th Hussars, too,” insisted Lieut. + D’Hubert, “I had not. And that is the bottom of the affair, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But still I don’t see why, to one’s colonel. . . . A colonel is a + father—que diable!” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert ought not to have been allowed out as yet. He was becoming + aware of his physical insufficiency with humiliation and despair. But the + morbid obstinacy of an invalid possessed him, and at the same time he felt + with dismay his eyes filling with water. This trouble seemed too big to + handle. A tear fell down the thin, pale cheek of Lieut. D’Hubert. + </p> + <p> + The colonel turned his back on him hastily. You could have heard a pin + drop. “This is some silly woman story—is it not?” + </p> + <p> + Saying these words the chief spun round to seize the truth, which is not a + beautiful shape living in a well, but a shy bird best caught by stratagem. + This was the last move of the colonel’s diplomacy. He saw the truth + shining unmistakably in the gesture of Lieut. D’Hubert raising his weak + arms and his eyes to heaven in supreme protest. + </p> + <p> + “Not a woman affair—eh?” growled the colonel, staring hard. “I don’t + ask you who or where. All I want to know is whether there is a woman in + it?” + </p> + <p> + Lieut. D’Hubert’s arms dropped, and his weak voice was pathetically + broken. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the kind, mon Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “On your honour?” insisted the old warrior. + </p> + <p> + “On my honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the colonel, thoughtfully, and bit his lip. The + arguments of Lieut. D’Hubert, helped by his liking for the man, had + convinced him. On the other hand, it was highly improper that his + intervention, of which he had made no secret, should produce no visible + effect. He kept Lieut. D’Hubert a few minutes longer, and dismissed him + kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Take a few days more in bed. Lieutenant. What the devil does the surgeon + mean by reporting you fit for duty?” + </p> + <p> + On coming out of the colonel’s quarters, Lieut. D’Hubert said nothing to + the friend who was waiting outside to take him home. He said nothing to + anybody. Lieut. D’Hubert made no confidences. But on the evening of that + day the colonel, strolling under the elms growing near his quarters, in + the company of his second in command, opened his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got to the bottom of this affair,” he remarked. The lieut.-colonel, + a dry, brown chip of a man with short side-whiskers, pricked up his ears + at that without letting a sign of curiosity escape him. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no trifle,” added the colonel, oracularly. The other waited for a + long while before he murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “No trifle,” repeated the colonel, looking straight before him. “I’ve, + however, forbidden D’Hubert either to send to or receive a challenge from + Feraud for the next twelve months.” + </p> + <p> + He had imagined this prohibition to save the prestige a colonel should + have. The result of it was to give an official seal to the mystery + surrounding this deadly quarrel. Lieut. D’Hubert repelled by an impassive + silence all attempts to worm the truth out of him. Lieut. Feraud, secretly + uneasy at first, regained his assurance as time went on. He disguised his + ignorance of the meaning of the imposed truce by slight sardonic laughs, + as though he were amused by what he intended to keep to himself. “But what + will you do?” his chums used to ask him. He contented himself by replying + “Qui vivra verra” with a little truculent air. And everybody admired his + discretion. + </p> + <p> + Before the end of the truce Lieut. D’Hubert got his troop. The promotion + was well earned, but somehow no one seemed to expect the event. When + Lieut. Feraud heard of it at a gathering of officers, he muttered through + his teeth, “Is that so?” At once he unhooked his sabre from a peg near the + door, buckled it on carefully, and left the company without another word. + He walked home with measured steps, struck a light with his flint and + steel, and lit his tallow candle. Then snatching an unlucky glass tumbler + off the mantelpiece he dashed it violently on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Now that D’Hubert was an officer of superior rank there could be no + question of a duel. Neither of them could send or receive a challenge + without rendering himself amenable to a court-martial. It was not to be + thought of. Lieut. Feraud, who for many days now had experienced no real + desire to meet Lieut. D’Hubert arms in hand, chafed again at the + systematic injustice of fate. “Does he think he will escape me in that + way?” he thought, indignantly. He saw in this promotion an intrigue, a + conspiracy, a cowardly manoeuvre. That colonel knew what he was doing. He + had hastened to recommend his favourite for a step. It was outrageous that + a man should be able to avoid the consequences of his acts in such a dark + and tortuous manner. + </p> + <p> + Of a happy-go-lucky disposition, of a temperament more pugnacious than + military, Lieut. Feraud had been content to give and receive blows for + sheer love of armed strife, and without much thought of advancement; but + now an urgent desire to get on sprang up in his breast. This fighter by + vocation resolved in his mind to seize showy occasions and to court the + favourable opinion of his chiefs like a mere worldling. He knew he was as + brave as any one, and never doubted his personal charm. Nevertheless, + neither the bravery nor the charm seemed to work very swiftly. Lieut. + Feraud’s engaging, careless truculence of a beau sabreur underwent a + change. He began to make bitter allusions to “clever fellows who stick at + nothing to get on.” The army was full of them, he would say; you had only + to look round. But all the time he had in view one person only, his + adversary, D’Hubert. Once he confided to an appreciative friend: “You see, + I don’t know how to fawn on the right sort of people. It isn’t in my + character.” + </p> + <p> + He did not get his step till a week after Austerlitz. The Light Cavalry of + the Grand Army had its hands very full of interesting work for a little + while. Directly the pressure of professional occupation had been eased + Captain Feraud took measures to arrange a meeting without loss of time. “I + know my bird,” he observed, grimly. “If I don’t look sharp he will take + care to get himself promoted over the heads of a dozen better men than + himself. He’s got the knack for that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + This duel was fought in Silesia. If not fought to a finish, it was, at any + rate, fought to a standstill. The weapon was the cavalry sabre, and the + skill, the science, the vigour, and the determination displayed by the + adversaries compelled the admiration of the beholders. It became the + subject of talk on both shores of the Danube, and as far as the garrisons + of Gratz and Laybach. They crossed blades seven times. Both had many cuts + which bled profusely. Both refused to have the combat stopped, time after + time, with what appeared the most deadly animosity. This appearance was + caused on the part of Captain D’Hubert by a rational desire to be done + once for all with this worry; on the part of Captain Feraud by a + tremendous exaltation of his pugnacious instincts and the incitement of + wounded vanity. At last, dishevelled, their shirts in rags, covered with + gore and hardly able to stand, they were led away forcibly by their + marvelling and horrified seconds. Later on, besieged by comrades avid of + details, these gentlemen declared that they could not have allowed that + sort of hacking to go on indefinitely. Asked whether the quarrel was + settled this time, they gave it out as their conviction that it was a + difference which could only be settled by one of the parties remaining + lifeless on the ground. The sensation spread from army corps to army + corps, and penetrated at last to the smallest detachments of the troops + cantoned between the Rhine and the Save. In the cafes in Vienna it was + generally estimated, from details to hand, that the adversaries would be + able to meet again in three weeks’ time on the outside. Something really + transcendent in the way of duelling was expected. + </p> + <p> + These expectations were brought to naught by the necessities of the + service which separated the two officers. No official notice had been + taken of their quarrel. It was now the property of the army, and not to be + meddled with lightly. But the story of the duel, or rather their duelling + propensities, must have stood somewhat in the way of their advancement, + because they were still captains when they came together again during the + war with Prussia. Detached north after Jena, with the army commanded by + Marshal Bernadotte, Prince of Ponte Corvo, they entered Lubeck together. + </p> + <p> + It was only after the occupation of that town that Captain Feraud found + leisure to consider his future conduct in view of the fact that Captain + D’Hubert had been given the position of third aide-de-camp to the marshal. + He considered it a great part of a night, and in the morning summoned two + sympathetic friends. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been thinking it over calmly,” he said, gazing at them with + blood-shot, tired eyes. “I see that I must get rid of that intriguing + personage. Here he’s managed to sneak on to the personal staff of the + marshal. It’s a direct provocation to me. I can’t tolerate a situation in + which I am exposed any day to receive an order through him. And God knows + what order, too! That sort of thing has happened once before—and + that’s once too often. He understands this perfectly, never fear. I can’t + tell you any more. Now you know what it is you have to do.” + </p> + <p> + This encounter took place outside the town of Lubeck, on very open ground, + selected with special care in deference to the general sentiment of the + cavalry division belonging to the army corps, that this time the two + officers should meet on horseback. After all, this duel was a cavalry + affair, and to persist in fighting on foot would look like a slight on + one’s own arm of the service. The seconds, startled by the unusual nature + of the suggestion, hastened to refer to their principals. Captain Feraud + jumped at it with alacrity. For some obscure reason, depending, no doubt, + on his psychology, he imagined himself invincible on horseback. All alone + within the four walls of his room he rubbed his hands and muttered + triumphantly, “Aha! my pretty staff officer, I’ve got you now.” + </p> + <p> + Captain D’Hubert on his side, after staring hard for a considerable time + at his friends, shrugged his shoulders slightly. This affair had + hopelessly and unreasonably complicated his existence for him. One + absurdity more or less in the development did not matter—all + absurdity was distasteful to him; but, urbane as ever, he produced a + faintly ironical smile, and said in his calm voice, “It certainly will do + away to some extent with the monotony of the thing.” + </p> + <p> + When left alone, he sat down at a table and took his head into his hands. + He had not spared himself of late and the marshal had been working all his + aides-decamp particularly hard. The last three weeks of campaigning in + horrible weather had affected his health. When over-tired he suffered from + a stitch in his wounded side, and that uncomfortable sensation always + depressed him. “It’s that brute’s doing, too,” he thought bitterly. + </p> + <p> + The day before he had received a letter from home, announcing that his + only sister was going to be married. He reflected that from the time she + was nineteen and he twenty-six, when he went away to garrison life in + Strasbourg, he had had but two short glimpses of her. They had been great + friends and confidants; and now she was going to be given away to a man + whom he did not know—a very worthy fellow no doubt, but not half + good enough for her. He would never see his old Leonie again. She had a + capable little head, and plenty of tact; she would know how to manage the + fellow, to be sure. He was easy in his mind about her happiness but he + felt ousted from the first place in her thoughts which had been his ever + since the girl could speak. A melancholy regret of the days of his + childhood settled upon Captain D’Hubert, third aide-de-camp to the Prince + of Ponte Corvo. + </p> + <p> + He threw aside the letter of congratulation he had begun to write as in + duty bound, but without enthusiasm. He took a fresh piece of paper, and + traced on it the words: “This is my last will and testament.” Looking at + these words he gave himself up to unpleasant reflection; a presentiment + that he would never see the scenes of his childhood weighed down the + equable spirits of Captain D’Hubert. He jumped up, pushing his chair back, + yawned elaborately in sign that he didn’t care anything for presentiments, + and throwing himself on the bed went to sleep. During the night he + shivered from time to time without waking up. In the morning he rode out + of town between his two seconds, talking of indifferent things, and + looking right and left with apparent detachment into the heavy morning + mists shrouding the flat green fields bordered by hedges. He leaped a + ditch, and saw the forms of many mounted men moving in the fog. “We are to + fight before a gallery, it seems,” he muttered to himself, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + His seconds were rather concerned at the state of the atmosphere, but + presently a pale, sickly sun struggled out of the low vapours, and Captain + D’Hubert made out, in the distance, three horsemen riding a little apart + from the others. It was Captain Feraud and his seconds. He drew his sabre, + and assured himself that it was properly fastened to his wrist. And now + the seconds, who had been standing in close group with the heads of their + horses together, separated at an easy canter, leaving a large, clear field + between him and his adversary. Captain D’Hubert looked at the pale sun, at + the dismal fields, and the imbecility of the impending fight filled him + with desolation. From a distant part of the field a stentorian voice + shouted commands at proper intervals: Au pas—Au trot—Charrrgez! + . . . Presentiments of death don’t come to a man for nothing, he thought + at the very moment he put spurs to his horse. + </p> + <p> + And therefore he was more than surprised when, at the very first set-to, + Captain Feraud laid himself open to a cut over the forehead, which + blinding him with blood, ended the combat almost before it had fairly + begun. It was impossible to go on. Captain D’Hubert, leaving his enemy + swearing horribly and reeling in the saddle between his two appalled + friends, leaped the ditch again into the road and trotted home with his + two seconds, who seemed rather awestruck at the speedy issue of that + encounter. In the evening Captain D’Hubert finished the congratulatory + letter on his sister’s marriage. + </p> + <p> + He finished it late. It was a long letter. Captain D’Hubert gave reins to + his fancy. He told his sister that he would feel rather lonely after this + great change in her life; but then the day would come for him, too, to get + married. In fact, he was thinking already of the time when there would be + no one left to fight with in Europe and the epoch of wars would be over. + “I expect then,” he wrote, “to be within measurable distance of a + marshal’s baton, and you will be an experienced married woman. You shall + look out a wife for me. I will be, probably, bald by then, and a little + blase. I shall require a young girl, pretty of course, and with a large + fortune, which should help me to close my glorious career in the splendour + befitting my exalted rank.” He ended with the information that he had just + given a lesson to a worrying, quarrelsome fellow who imagined he had a + grievance against him. “But if you, in the depths of your province,” he + continued, “ever hear it said that your brother is of a quarrelsome + disposition, don’t you believe it on any account. There is no saying what + gossip from the army may reach your innocent ears. Whatever you hear you + may rest assured that your ever-loving brother is not a duellist.” Then + Captain D’Hubert crumpled up the blank sheet of paper headed with the + words “This is my last will and testament,” and threw it in the fire with + a great laugh at himself. He didn’t care a snap for what that lunatic + could do. He had suddenly acquired the conviction that his adversary was + utterly powerless to affect his life in any sort of way; except, perhaps, + in the way of putting a special excitement into the delightful, gay + intervals between the campaigns. + </p> + <p> + From this on there were, however, to be no peaceful intervals in the + career of Captain D’Hubert. He saw the fields of Eylau and Friedland, + marched and countermarched in the snow, in the mud, in the dust of Polish + plains, picking up distinction and advancement on all the roads of + North-eastern Europe. Meantime, Captain Feraud, despatched southwards with + his regiment, made unsatisfactory war in Spain. It was only when the + preparations for the Russian campaign began that he was ordered north + again. He left the country of mantillas and oranges without regret. + </p> + <p> + The first signs of a not unbecoming baldness added to the lofty aspect of + Colonel D’Hubert’s forehead. This feature was no longer white and smooth + as in the days of his youth; the kindly open glance of his blue eyes had + grown a little hard as if from much peering through the smoke of battles. + The ebony crop on Colonel Feraud’s head, coarse and crinkly like a cap of + horsehair, showed many silver threads about the temples. A detestable + warfare of ambushes and inglorious surprises had not improved his temper. + The beak-like curve of his nose was unpleasantly set off by a deep fold on + each side of his mouth. The round orbits of his eyes radiated wrinkles. + More than ever he recalled an irritable and staring bird—something + like a cross between a parrot and an owl. He was still extremely outspoken + in his dislike of “intriguing fellows.” He seized every opportunity to + state that he did not pick up his rank in the ante-rooms of marshals. The + unlucky persons, civil or military, who, with an intention of being + pleasant, begged Colonel Feraud to tell them how he came by that very + apparent scar on the forehead, were astonished to find themselves snubbed + in various ways, some of which were simply rude and others mysteriously + sardonic. Young officers were warned kindly by their more experienced + comrades not to stare openly at the colonel’s scar. But indeed an officer + need have been very young in his profession not to have heard the + legendary tale of that duel originating in a mysterious, unforgivable + offence. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + The retreat from Moscow submerged all private feelings in a sea of + disaster and misery. Colonels without regiments, D’Hubert and Feraud + carried the musket in the ranks of the so-called sacred battalion—a + battalion recruited from officers of all arms who had no longer any troops + to lead. + </p> + <p> + In that battalion promoted colonels did duty as sergeants; the generals + captained the companies; a marshal of France, Prince of the Empire, + commanded the whole. All had provided themselves with muskets picked up on + the road, and with cartridges taken from the dead. In the general + destruction of the bonds of discipline and duty holding together the + companies, the battalions, the regiments, the brigades, and divisions of + an armed host, this body of men put its pride in preserving some semblance + of order and formation. The only stragglers were those who fell out to + give up to the frost their exhausted souls. They plodded on, and their + passage did not disturb the mortal silence of the plains, shining with the + livid light of snows under a sky the colour of ashes. Whirlwinds ran along + the fields, broke against the dark column, enveloped it in a turmoil of + flying icicles, and subsided, disclosing it creeping on its tragic way + without the swing and rhythm of the military pace. It struggled onwards, + the men exchanging neither words nor looks; whole ranks marched touching + elbow, day after day and never raising their eyes from the ground, as if + lost in despairing reflections. In the dumb, black forests of pines the + cracking of overloaded branches was the only sound they heard. Often from + daybreak to dusk no one spoke in the whole column. It was like a macabre + march of struggling corpses towards a distant grave. Only an alarm of + Cossacks could restore to their eyes a semblance of martial resolution. + The battalion faced about and deployed, or formed square under the endless + fluttering of snowflakes. A cloud of horsemen with fur caps on their + heads, levelled long lances, and yelled “Hurrah! Hurrah!” around their + menacing immobility whence, with muffled detonations, hundreds of dark red + flames darted through the air thick with falling snow. In a very few + moments the horsemen would disappear, as if carried off yelling in the + gale, and the sacred battalion standing still, alone in the blizzard, + heard only the howling of the wind, whose blasts searched their very + hearts. Then, with a cry or two of “Vive l’Empereur!” it would resume its + march, leaving behind a few lifeless bodies lying huddled up, tiny black + specks on the white immensity of the snows. + </p> + <p> + Though often marching in the ranks, or skirmishing in the woods side by + side, the two officers ignored each other; this not so much from inimical + intention as from a very real indifference. All their store of moral + energy was expended in resisting the terrific enmity of nature and the + crushing sense of irretrievable disaster. To the last they counted among + the most active, the least demoralized of the battalion; their vigorous + vitality invested them both with the appearance of an heroic pair in the + eyes of their comrades. And they never exchanged more than a casual word + or two, except one day, when skirmishing in front of the battalion against + a worrying attack of cavalry, they found themselves cut off in the woods + by a small party of Cossacks. A score of fur-capped, hairy horsemen rode + to and fro, brandishing their lances in ominous silence; but the two + officers had no mind to lay down their arms, and Colonel Feraud suddenly + spoke up in a hoarse, growling voice, bringing his firelock to the + shoulder. “You take the nearest brute, Colonel D’Hubert; I’ll settle the + next one. I am a better shot than you are.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel D’Hubert nodded over his levelled musket. Their shoulders were + pressed against the trunk of a large tree; on their front enormous + snowdrifts protected them from a direct charge. Two carefully aimed shots + rang out in the frosty air, two Cossacks reeled in their saddles. The + rest, not thinking the game good enough, closed round their wounded + comrades and galloped away out of range. The two officers managed to + rejoin their battalion halted for the night. During that afternoon they + had leaned upon each other more than once, and towards the end, Colonel + D’Hubert, whose long legs gave him an advantage in walking through soft + snow, peremptorily took the musket of Colonel Feraud from him and carried + it on his shoulder, using his own as a staff. + </p> + <p> + On the outskirts of a village half buried in the snow an old wooden barn + burned with a clear and an immense flame. The sacred battalion of + skeletons, muffled in rags, crowded greedily the windward side, stretching + hundreds of numbed, bony hands to the blaze. Nobody had noted their + approach. Before entering the circle of light playing on the sunken, + glassy-eyed, starved faces, Colonel D’Hubert spoke in his turn: + </p> + <p> + “Here’s your musket, Colonel Feraud. I can walk better than you.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Feraud nodded, and pushed on towards the warmth of the fierce + flames. Colonel D’Hubert was more deliberate, but not the less bent on + getting a place in the front rank. Those they shouldered aside tried to + greet with a faint cheer the reappearance of the two indomitable + companions in activity and endurance. Those manly qualities had never + perhaps received a higher tribute than this feeble acclamation. + </p> + <p> + This is the faithful record of speeches exchanged during the retreat from + Moscow by Colonels Feraud and D’Hubert. Colonel Feraud’s taciturnity was + the outcome of concentrated rage. Short, hairy, black faced, with layers + of grime and the thick sprouting of a wiry beard, a frost-bitten hand + wrapped up in filthy rags carried in a sling, he accused fate of + unparalleled perfidy towards the sublime Man of Destiny. Colonel D’Hubert, + his long moustaches pendent in icicles on each side of his cracked blue + lips, his eyelids inflamed with the glare of snows, the principal part of + his costume consisting of a sheepskin coat looted with difficulty from the + frozen corpse of a camp follower found in an abandoned cart, took a more + thoughtful view of events. His regularly handsome features, now reduced to + mere bony lines and fleshless hollows, looked out of a woman’s black + velvet hood, over which was rammed forcibly a cocked hat picked up under + the wheels of an empty army fourgon, which must have contained at one time + some general officer’s luggage. The sheepskin coat being short for a man + of his inches ended very high up, and the skin of his legs, blue with the + cold, showed through the tatters of his nether garments. This under the + circumstances provoked neither jeers nor pity. No one cared how the next + man felt or looked. Colonel D’Hubert himself, hardened to exposure, + suffered mainly in his self-respect from the lamentable indecency of his + costume. A thoughtless person may think that with a whole host of + inanimate bodies bestrewing the path of retreat there could not have been + much difficulty in supplying the deficiency. But to loot a pair of + breeches from a frozen corpse is not so easy as it may appear to a mere + theorist. It requires time and labour. You must remain behind while your + companions march on. Colonel D’Hubert had his scruples as to falling out. + Once he had stepped aside he could not be sure of ever rejoining his + battalion; and the ghastly intimacy of a wrestling match with the frozen + dead opposing the unyielding rigidity of iron to your violence was + repugnant to the delicacy of his feelings. Luckily, one day, grubbing in a + mound of snow between the huts of a village in the hope of finding there a + frozen potato or some vegetable garbage he could put between his long and + shaky teeth, Colonel D’Hubert uncovered a couple of mats of the sort + Russian peasants use to line the sides of their carts with. These, beaten + free of frozen snow, bent about his elegant person and fastened solidly + round his waist, made a bell-shaped nether garment, a sort of stiff + petticoat, which rendered Colonel D’Hubert a perfectly decent, but a much + more noticeable figure than before. + </p> + <p> + Thus accoutred, he continued to retreat, never doubting of his personal + escape, but full of other misgivings. The early buoyancy of his belief in + the future was destroyed. If the road of glory led through such unforeseen + passages, he asked himself—for he was reflective—whether the + guide was altogether trustworthy. It was a patriotic sadness, not + unmingled with some personal concern, and quite unlike the unreasoning + indignation against men and things nursed by Colonel Feraud. Recruiting + his strength in a little German town for three weeks, Colonel D’Hubert was + surprised to discover within himself a love of repose. His returning + vigour was strangely pacific in its aspirations. He meditated silently + upon this bizarre change of mood. No doubt many of his brother officers of + field rank went through the same moral experience. But these were not the + times to talk of it. In one of his letters home Colonel D’Hubert wrote, + “All your plans, my dear Leonie, for marrying me to the charming girl you + have discovered in your neighbourhood, seem farther off than ever. Peace + is not yet. Europe wants another lesson. It will be a hard task for us, + but it shall be done, because the Emperor is invincible.” + </p> + <p> + Thus wrote Colonel D ‘Hubert from Pomerania to his married sister Leonie, + settled in the south of France. And so far the sentiments expressed would + not have been disowned by Colonel Feraud, who wrote no letters to anybody, + whose father had been in life an illiterate blacksmith, who had no sister + or brother, and whom no one desired ardently to pair off for a life of + peace with a charming young girl. But Colonel D ‘Hubert’s letter contained + also some philosophical generalities upon the uncertainty of all personal + hopes, when bound up entirely with the prestigious fortune of one + incomparably great it is true, yet still remaining but a man in his + greatness. This view would have appeared rank heresy to Colonel Feraud. + Some melancholy forebodings of a military kind, expressed cautiously, + would have been pronounced as nothing short of high treason by Colonel + Feraud. But Leonie, the sister of Colonel D’Hubert, read them with + profound satisfaction, and, folding the letter thoughtfully, remarked to + herself that “Armand was likely to prove eventually a sensible fellow.” + Since her marriage into a Southern family she had become a convinced + believer in the return of the legitimate king. Hopeful and anxious she + offered prayers night and morning, and burnt candles in churches for the + safety and prosperity of her brother. + </p> + <p> + She had every reason to suppose that her prayers were heard. Colonel + D’Hubert passed through Lutzen, Bautzen, and Leipsic losing no limb, and + acquiring additional reputation. Adapting his conduct to the needs of that + desperate time, he had never voiced his misgivings. He concealed them + under a cheerful courtesy of such pleasant character that people were + inclined to ask themselves with wonder whether Colonel D’Hubert was aware + of any disasters. Not only his manners, but even his glances remained + untroubled. The steady amenity of his blue eyes disconcerted all + grumblers, and made despair itself pause. + </p> + <p> + This bearing was remarked favourably by the Emperor himself; for Colonel + D’Hubert, attached now to the Major-General’s staff, came on several + occasions under the imperial eye. But it exasperated the higher strung + nature of Colonel Feraud. Passing through Magdeburg on service, this last + allowed himself, while seated gloomily at dinner with the Commandant de + Place, to say of his life-long adversary: “This man does not love the + Emperor,” and his words were received by the other guests in profound + silence. Colonel Feraud, troubled in his conscience at the atrocity of the + aspersion, felt the need to back it up by a good argument. “I ought to + know him,” he cried, adding some oaths. “One studies one’s adversary. I + have met him on the ground half a dozen times, as all the army knows. What + more do you want? If that isn’t opportunity enough for any fool to size up + his man, may the devil take me if I can tell what is.” And he looked + around the table, obstinate and sombre. + </p> + <p> + Later on in Paris, while extremely busy reorganizing his regiment, Colonel + Feraud learned that Colonel D’Hubert had been made a general. He glared at + his informant incredulously, then folded his arms and turned away + muttering, “Nothing surprises me on the part of that man.” + </p> + <p> + And aloud he added, speaking over his shoulder, “You would oblige me + greatly by telling General D’Hubert at the first opportunity that his + advancement saves him for a time from a pretty hot encounter. I was only + waiting for him to turn up here.” + </p> + <p> + The other officer remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + “Could you think of it, Colonel Feraud, at this time, when every life + should be consecrated to the glory and safety of France?” + </p> + <p> + But the strain of unhappiness caused by military reverses had spoiled + Colonel Feraud’s character. Like many other men, he was rendered wicked by + misfortune. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot consider General D’Hubert’s existence of any account either for + the glory or safety of France,” he snapped viciously. “You don’t pretend, + perhaps, to know him better than I do—I who have met him half a + dozen times on the ground—do you?” + </p> + <p> + His interlocutor, a young man, was silenced. Colonel Feraud walked up and + down the room. + </p> + <p> + “This is not the time to mince matters,” he said. “I can’t believe that + that man ever loved the Emperor. He picked up his general’s stars under + the boots of Marshal Berthier. Very well. I’ll get mine in another + fashion, and then we shall settle this business which has been dragging on + too long.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert, informed indirectly of Colonel Feraud’s attitude, made a + gesture as if to put aside an importunate person. His thoughts were + solicited by graver cares. He had had no time to go and see his family. + His sister, whose royalist hopes were rising higher every day, though + proud of her brother, regretted his recent advancement in a measure, + because it put on him a prominent mark of the usurper’s favour, which + later on could have an adverse influence upon his career. He wrote to her + that no one but an inveterate enemy could say he had got his promotion by + favour. As to his career, he assured her that he looked no farther forward + into the future than the next battlefield. + </p> + <p> + Beginning the campaign of France in this dogged spirit, General D’Hubert + was wounded on the second day of the battle under Laon. While being + carried off the field he heard that Colonel Feraud, promoted this moment + to general, had been sent to replace him at the head of his brigade. He + cursed his luck impulsively, not being able at the first glance to discern + all the advantages of a nasty wound. And yet it was by this heroic method + that Providence was shaping his future. Travelling slowly south to his + sister’s country home under the care of a trusty old servant, General + D’Hubert was spared the humiliating contacts and the perplexities of + conduct which assailed the men of Napoleonic empire at the moment of its + downfall. Lying in his bed, with the windows of his room open wide to the + sunshine of Provence, he perceived the undisguised aspect of the blessing + conveyed by that jagged fragment of a Prussian shell, which, killing his + horse and ripping open his thigh, saved him from an active conflict with + his conscience. After the last fourteen years spent sword in hand in the + saddle, and with the sense of his duty done to the very end, General + D’Hubert found resignation an easy virtue. His sister was delighted with + his reasonableness. “I leave myself altogether in your hands, my dear + Leonie,” he had said to her. + </p> + <p> + He was still laid up when, the credit of his brother-in-law’s family being + exerted on his behalf, he received from the royal government not only the + confirmation of his rank, but the assurance of being retained on the + active list. To this was added an unlimited convalescent leave. The + unfavourable opinion entertained of him in Bonapartist circles, though it + rested on nothing more solid than the unsupported pronouncement of General + Feraud, was directly responsible for General D’Hubert’s retention on the + active list. As to General Feraud, his rank was confirmed, too. It was + more than he dared to expect; but Marshal Soult, then Minister of War to + the restored king, was partial to officers who had served in Spain. Only + not even the marshal’s protection could secure for him active employment. + He remained irreconcilable, idle, and sinister. He sought in obscure + restaurants the company of other half-pay officers who cherished dingy but + glorious old tricolour cockades in their breast-pockets, and buttoned with + the forbidden eagle buttons their shabby uniforms, declaring themselves + too poor to afford the expense of the prescribed change. + </p> + <p> + The triumphant return from Elba, an historical fact as marvellous and + incredible as the exploits of some mythological demi-god, found General + D’Hubert still quite unable to sit a horse. Neither could he walk very + well. These disabilities, which Madame Leonie accounted most lucky, helped + to keep her brother out of all possible mischief. His frame of mind at + that time, she noted with dismay, became very far from reasonable. This + general officer, still menaced by the loss of a limb, was discovered one + night in the stables of the chateau by a groom, who, seeing a light, + raised an alarm of thieves. His crutch was lying half-buried in the straw + of the litter, and the general was hopping on one leg in a loose box + around a snorting horse he was trying to saddle. Such were the effects of + imperial magic upon a calm temperament and a pondered mind. Beset in the + light of stable lanterns, by the tears, entreaties, indignation, + remonstrances and reproaches of his family, he got out of the difficult + situation by fainting away there and then in the arms of his nearest + relatives, and was carried off to bed. Before he got out of it again, the + second reign of Napoleon, the Hundred Days of feverish agitation and + supreme effort, passed away like a terrifying dream. The tragic year 1815, + begun in the trouble and unrest of consciences, was ending in vengeful + proscriptions. + </p> + <p> + How General Feraud escaped the clutches of the Special Commission and the + last offices of a firing squad he never knew himself. It was partly due to + the subordinate position he was assigned during the Hundred Days. The + Emperor had never given him active command, but had kept him busy at the + cavalry depot in Paris, mounting and despatching hastily drilled troopers + into the field. Considering this task as unworthy of his abilities, he had + discharged it with no offensively noticeable zeal; but for the greater + part he was saved from the excesses of Royalist reaction by the + interference of General D’Hubert. + </p> + <p> + This last, still on convalescent leave, but able now to travel, had been + despatched by his sister to Paris to present himself to his legitimate + sovereign. As no one in the capital could possibly know anything of the + episode in the stable he was received there with distinction. Military to + the very bottom of his soul, the prospect of rising in his profession + consoled him from finding himself the butt of Bonapartist malevolence, + which pursued him with a persistence he could not account for. All the + rancour of that embittered and persecuted party pointed to him as the man + who had never loved the Emperor—a sort of monster essentially worse + than a mere betrayer. + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert shrugged his shoulders without anger at this ferocious + prejudice. Rejected by his old friends, and mistrusting profoundly the + advances of Royalist society, the young and handsome general (he was + barely forty) adopted a manner of cold, punctilious courtesy, which at the + merest shadow of an intended slight passed easily into harsh haughtiness. + Thus prepared, General D’Hubert went about his affairs in Paris feeling + inwardly very happy with the peculiar uplifting happiness of a man very + much in love. The charming girl looked out by his sister had come upon the + scene, and had conquered him in the thorough manner in which a young girl + by merely existing in his sight can make a man of forty her own. They were + going to be married as soon as General D’Hubert had obtained his official + nomination to a promised command. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, sitting on the terrasse of the Cafe Tortoni, General + D’Hubert learned from the conversation of two strangers occupying a table + near his own, that General Feraud, included in the batch of superior + officers arrested after the second return of the king, was in danger of + passing before the Special Commission. Living all his spare moments, as is + frequently the case with expectant lovers, a day in advance of reality, + and in a state of bestarred hallucination, it required nothing less than + the name of his perpetual antagonist pronounced in a loud voice to call + the youngest of Napoleon’s generals away from the mental contemplation of + his betrothed. He looked round. The strangers wore civilian clothes. Lean + and weather-beaten, lolling back in their chairs, they scowled at people + with moody and defiant abstraction from under their hats pulled low over + their eyes. It was not difficult to recognize them for two of the + compulsorily retired officers of the Old Guard. As from bravado or + carelessness they chose to speak in loud tones, General D’Hubert, who saw + no reason why he should change his seat, heard every word. They did not + seem to be the personal friends of General Feraud. His name came up + amongst others. Hearing it repeated, General D’Hubert’s tender + anticipations of a domestic future adorned with a woman’s grace were + traversed by the harsh regret of his warlike past, of that one long, + intoxicating clash of arms, unique in the magnitude of its glory and + disaster—the marvellous work and the special possession of his own + generation. He felt an irrational tenderness towards his old adversary and + appreciated emotionally the murderous absurdity their encounter had + introduced into his life. It was like an additional pinch of spice in a + hot dish. He remembered the flavour with sudden melancholy. He would never + taste it again. It was all over. “I fancy it was being left lying in the + garden that had exasperated him so against me from the first,” he thought, + indulgently. + </p> + <p> + The two strangers at the next table had fallen silent after the third + mention of General Feraud’s name. Presently the elder of the two, speaking + again in a bitter tone, affirmed that General Feraud’s account was + settled. And why? Simply because he was not like some bigwigs who loved + only themselves. The Royalists knew they could never make anything of him. + He loved The Other too well. + </p> + <p> + The Other was the Man of St. Helena. The two officers nodded and touched + glasses before they drank to an impossible return. Then the same who had + spoken before, remarked with a sardonic laugh, “His adversary showed more + cleverness.” + </p> + <p> + “What adversary?” asked the younger, as if puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know? They were two hussars. At each promotion they fought a + duel. Haven’t you heard of the duel going on ever since 1801?” + </p> + <p> + The other had heard of the duel, of course. Now he understood the + allusion. General Baron D’Hubert would be able now to enjoy his fat king’s + favour in peace. + </p> + <p> + “Much good may it do to him,” mumbled the elder. “They were both brave + men. I never saw this D’Hubert—a sort of intriguing dandy, I am + told. But I can well believe what I’ve heard Feraud say of him—that + he never loved the Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + They rose and went away. + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert experienced the horror of a somnambulist who wakes up + from a complacent dream of activity to find himself walking on a quagmire. + A profound disgust of the ground on which he was making his way overcame + him. Even the image of the charming girl was swept from his view in the + flood of moral distress. Everything he had ever been or hoped to be would + taste of bitter ignominy unless he could manage to save General Feraud + from the fate which threatened so many braves. Under the impulse of this + almost morbid need to attend to the safety of his adversary, General + D’Hubert worked so well with hands and feet (as the French saying is), + that in less than twenty-four hours he found means of obtaining an + extraordinary private audience from the Minister of Police. + </p> + <p> + General Baron D’Hubert was shown in suddenly without preliminaries. In the + dusk of the Minister’s cabinet, behind the forms of writing-desk, chairs, + and tables, between two bunches of wax candles blazing in sconces, he + beheld a figure in a gorgeous coat posturing before a tall mirror. The old + conventionnel Fouche, Senator of the Empire, traitor to every man, to + every principle and motive of human conduct. Duke of Otranto, and the wily + artizan of the second Restoration, was trying the fit of a court suit in + which his young and accomplished fiancee had declared her intention to + have his portrait painted on porcelain. It was a caprice, a charming fancy + which the first Minister of Police of the second Restoration was anxious + to gratify. For that man, often compared in wiliness of conduct to a fox, + but whose ethical side could be worthily symbolized by nothing less + emphatic than a skunk, was as much possessed by his love as General + D’Hubert himself. + </p> + <p> + Startled to be discovered thus by the blunder of a servant, he met this + little vexation with the characteristic impudence which had served his + turn so well in the endless intrigues of his self-seeking career. Without + altering his attitude a hair’s-breadth, one leg in a silk stocking + advanced, his head twisted over his left shoulder, he called out calmly, + “This way, General. Pray approach. Well? I am all attention.” + </p> + <p> + While General D’Hubert, ill at ease as if one of his own little weaknesses + had been exposed, presented his request as shortly as possible, the Duke + of Otranto went on feeling the fit of his collar, settling the lapels + before the glass, and buckling his back in an effort to behold the set of + the gold embroidered coat-skirts behind. His still face, his attentive + eyes, could not have expressed a more complete interest in those matters + if he had been alone. + </p> + <p> + “Exclude from the operations of the Special Court a certain Feraud, + Gabriel Florian, General of brigade of the promotion of 1814?” he + repeated, in a slightly wondering tone, and then turned away from the + glass. “Why exclude him precisely?” + </p> + <p> + “I am surprised that your Excellency, so competent in the evaluation of + men of his time, should have thought worth while to have that name put + down on the list.” + </p> + <p> + “A rabid Bonapartist!” + </p> + <p> + “So is every grenadier and every trooper of the army, as your Excellency + well knows. And the individuality of General Feraud can have no more + weight than that of any casual grenadier. He is a man of no mental grasp, + of no capacity whatever. It is inconceivable that he should ever have any + influence.” + </p> + <p> + “He has a well-hung tongue, though,” interjected Fouche. + </p> + <p> + “Noisy, I admit, but not dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not dispute with you. I know next to nothing of him. Hardly his + name, in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet your Excellency has the presidency of the Commission charged by + the king to point out those who were to be tried,” said General D’Hubert, + with an emphasis which did not miss the minister’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General,” he said, walking away into the dark part of the vast room, + and throwing himself into a deep armchair that swallowed him up, all but + the soft gleam of gold embroideries and the pallid patch of the face—“yes, + General. Take this chair there.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General,” continued the arch-master in the arts of intrigue and + betrayals, whose duplicity, as if at times intolerable to his + self-knowledge, found relief in bursts of cynical openness. “I did hurry + on the formation of the proscribing Commission, and I took its presidency. + And do you know why? Simply from fear that if I did not take it quickly + into my hands my own name would head the list of the proscribed. Such are + the times in which we live. But I am minister of the king yet, and I ask + you plainly why I should take the name of this obscure Feraud off the + list? You wonder how his name got there! Is it possible that you should + know men so little? My dear General, at the very first sitting of the + Commission names poured on us like rain off the roof of the Tuileries. + Names! We had our choice of thousands. How do you know that the name of + this Feraud, whose life or death don’t matter to France, does not keep out + some other name?” + </p> + <p> + The voice out of the armchair stopped. Opposite General D’Hubert sat + still, shadowy and silent. Only his sabre clinked slightly. The voice in + the armchair began again. “And we must try to satisfy the exigencies of + the Allied Sovereigns, too. The Prince de Talleyrand told me only + yesterday that Nesselrode had informed him officially of His Majesty the + Emperor Alexander’s dissatisfaction at the small number of examples the + Government of the king intends to make—especially amongst military + men. I tell you this confidentially.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word!” broke out General D’Hubert, speaking through his teeth, + “if your Excellency deigns to favour me with any more confidential + information I don’t know what I will do. It’s enough to break one’s sword + over one’s knee, and fling the pieces. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What government you imagined yourself to be serving?” interrupted the + minister, sharply. + </p> + <p> + After a short pause the crestfallen voice of General D’Hubert answered, + “The Government of France.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s paying your conscience off with mere words, General. The truth is + that you are serving a government of returned exiles, of men who have been + without country for twenty years. Of men also who have just got over a + very bad and humiliating fright. . . . Have no illusions on that score.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke of Otranto ceased. He had relieved himself, and had attained his + object of stripping some self-respect off that man who had inconveniently + discovered him posturing in a gold-embroidered court costume before a + mirror. But they were a hot-headed lot in the army; it occurred to him + that it would be inconvenient if a well-disposed general officer, received + in audience on the recommendation of one of the Princes, were to do + something rashly scandalous directly after a private interview with the + minister. In a changed tone he put a question to the point: “Your relation—this + Feraud?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No relation at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Intimate friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Intimate . . . yes. There is between us an intimate connection of a + nature which makes it a point of honour with me to try . . .” + </p> + <p> + The minister rang a bell without waiting for the end of the phrase. When + the servant had gone out, after bringing in a pair of heavy silver + candelabra for the writing-desk, the Duke of Otranto rose, his breast + glistening all over with gold in the strong light, and taking a piece of + paper out of a drawer, held it in his hand ostentatiously while he said + with persuasive gentleness: “You must not speak of breaking your sword + across your knee, General. Perhaps you would never get another. The + Emperor will not return this time. . . . Diable d’homme! There was just a + moment, here in Paris, soon after Waterloo, when he frightened me. It + looked as though he were ready to begin all over again. Luckily one never + does begin all over again, really. You must not think of breaking your + sword, General.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert, looking on the ground, moved slightly his hand in a + hopeless gesture of renunciation. The Minister of Police turned his eyes + away from him, and scanned deliberately the paper he had been holding up + all the time. + </p> + <p> + “There are only twenty general officers selected to be made an example of. + Twenty. A round number. And let’s see, Feraud. . . . Ah, he’s there. + Gabriel Florian. Parfaitement. That’s your man. Well, there will be only + nineteen examples made now.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert stood up feeling as though he had gone through an + infectious illness. “I must beg your Excellency to keep my interference a + profound secret. I attach the greatest importance to his never learning . + . .” + </p> + <p> + “Who is going to inform him, I should like to know?” said Fouche, raising + his eyes curiously to General D’Hubert’s tense, set face. “Take one of + these pens, and run it through the name yourself. This is the only list in + existence. If you are careful to take up enough ink no one will be able to + tell what was the name struck out. But, par exemple, I am not responsible + for what Clarke will do with him afterwards. If he persists in being rabid + he will be ordered by the Minister of War to reside in some provincial + town under the supervision of the police.” + </p> + <p> + A few days later General D’Hubert was saying to his sister, after the + first greetings had been got over: “Ah, my dear Leonie! it seemed to me I + couldn’t get away from Paris quick enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Effect of love,” she suggested, with a malicious smile. + </p> + <p> + “And horror,” added General D’Hubert, with profound seriousness. “I have + nearly died there of . . . of nausea.” + </p> + <p> + His face was contracted with disgust. And as his sister looked at him + attentively he continued, “I have had to see Fouche. I have had an + audience. I have been in his cabinet. There remains with one, who had the + misfortune to breathe the air of the same room with that man, a sense of + diminished dignity, an uneasy feeling of being not so clean, after all, as + one hoped one was. . . . But you can’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded quickly several times. She understood very well, on the + contrary. She knew her brother thoroughly, and liked him as he was. + Moreover, the scorn and loathing of mankind were the lot of the Jacobin + Fouche, who, exploiting for his own advantage every weakness, every + virtue, every generous illusion of mankind, made dupes of his whole + generation, and died obscurely as Duke of Otranto. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Armand,” she said, compassionately, “what could you want from + that man?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing less than a life,” answered General D’Hubert. “And I’ve got it. + It had to be done. But I feel yet as if I could never forgive the + necessity to the man I had to save.” + </p> + <p> + General Feraud, totally unable (as is the case with most of us) to + comprehend what was happening to him, received the Minister of War’s order + to proceed at once to a small town of Central France with feelings whose + natural expression consisted in a fierce rolling of the eye and savage + grinding of the teeth. The passing away of the state of war, the only + condition of society he had ever known, the horrible view of a world at + peace, frightened him. He went away to his little town firmly convinced + that this could not last. There he was informed of his retirement from the + army, and that his pension (calculated on the scale of a colonel’s rank) + was made dependent on the correctness of his conduct, and on the good + reports of the police. No longer in the army! He felt suddenly strange to + the earth, like a disembodied spirit. It was impossible to exist. But at + first he reacted from sheer incredulity. This could not be. He waited for + thunder, earthquakes, natural cataclysms; but nothing happened. The leaden + weight of an irremediable idleness descended upon General Feraud, who + having no resources within himself sank into a state of awe-inspiring + hebetude. He haunted the streets of the little town, gazing before him + with lacklustre eyes, disregarding the hats raised on his passage; and + people, nudging each other as he went by, whispered, “That’s poor General + Feraud. His heart is broken. Behold how he loved the Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + The other living wreckage of Napoleonic tempest clustered round General + Feraud with infinite respect. He, himself, imagined his soul to be crushed + by grief. He suffered from quickly succeeding impulses to weep, to howl, + to bite his fists till blood came, to spend days on his bed with his head + thrust under the pillow; but these arose from sheer ennui, from the + anguish of an immense, indescribable, inconceivable boredom. His mental + inability to grasp the hopeless nature of his case as a whole saved him + from suicide. He never even thought of it once. He thought of nothing. But + his appetite abandoned him, and the difficulty he experienced to express + the overwhelming nature of his feelings (the most furious swearing could + do no justice to it) induced gradually a habit of silence—a sort of + death to a southern temperament. + </p> + <p> + Great, therefore, was the sensation amongst the anciens militaires + frequenting a certain little cafe; full of flies when one stuffy afternoon + “that poor General Feraud” let out suddenly a volley of formidable curses. + </p> + <p> + He had been sitting quietly in his own privileged corner looking through + the Paris gazettes with just as much interest as a condemned man on the + eve of execution could be expected to show in the news of the day. “I’ll + find out presently that I am alive yet,” he declared, in a dogmatic tone. + “However, this is a private affair. An old affair of honour. Bah! Our + honour does not matter. Here we are driven off with a split ear like a lot + of cast troop horses—good only for a knacker’s yard. But it would be + like striking a blow for the Emperor. . . . Messieurs, I shall require the + assistance of two of you.” + </p> + <p> + Every man moved forward. General Feraud, deeply touched by this + demonstration, called with visible emotion upon the one-eyed veteran + cuirassier and the officer of the Chasseurs a Cheval who had left the tip + of his nose in Russia. He excused his choice to the others. + </p> + <p> + “A cavalry affair this—you know.” + </p> + <p> + He was answered with a varied chorus of “Parfaitement, mon General . . . . + C’est juste. . . . Parbleu, c’est connu. . . .” Everybody was satisfied. + The three left the cafe together, followed by cries of “Bonne chance.” + </p> + <p> + Outside they linked arms, the general in the middle. The three rusty + cocked hats worn en bataille with a sinister forward slant barred the + narrow street nearly right across. The overheated little town of grey + stones and red tiles was drowsing away its provincial afternoon under a + blue sky. The loud blows of a cooper hooping a cask reverberated regularly + between the houses. The general dragged his left foot a little in the + shade of the walls. + </p> + <p> + “This damned winter of 1813 has got into my bones for good. Never mind. We + must take pistols, that’s all. A little lumbago. We must have pistols. + He’s game for my bag. My eyes are as keen as ever. You should have seen me + in Russia picking off the dodging Cossacks with a beastly old infantry + musket. I have a natural gift for firearms.” + </p> + <p> + In this strain General Feraud ran on, holding up his head, with owlish + eyes and rapacious beak. A mere fighter all his life, a cavalry man, a + sabreur, he conceived war with the utmost simplicity, as, in the main, a + massed lot of personal contests, a sort of gregarious duelling. And here + he had in hand a war of his own. He revived. The shadow of peace passed + away from him like the shadow of death. It was the marvellous resurrection + of the named Feraud, Gabriel Florian, engage volontaire of 1793, General + of 1814, buried without ceremony by means of a service order signed by the + War Minister of the Second Restoration. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + No man succeeds in everything he undertakes. In that sense we are all + failures. The great point is not to fail in ordering and sustaining the + effort of our life. In this matter vanity is what leads us astray. It + hurries us into situations from which we must come out damaged; whereas + pride is our safeguard, by the reserve it imposes on the choice of our + endeavour as much as by the virtue of its sustaining power. + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert was proud and reserved. He had not been damaged by his + casual love affairs, successful or otherwise. In his war-scarred body his + heart at forty remained unscratched. Entering with reserve into his + sister’s matrimonial plans, he had felt himself falling irremediably in + love as one falls off a roof. He was too proud to be frightened. Indeed, + the sensation was too delightful to be alarming. + </p> + <p> + The inexperience of a man of forty is a much more serious thing than the + inexperience of a youth of twenty, for it is not helped out by the + rashness of hot blood. The girl was mysterious, as young girls are by the + mere effect of their guarded ingenuity; and to him the mysteriousness of + that young girl appeared exceptional and fascinating. But there was + nothing mysterious about the arrangements of the match which Madame Leonie + had promoted. There was nothing peculiar, either. It was a very + appropriate match, commending itself extremely to the young lady’s mother + (the father was dead) and tolerable to the young lady’s uncle—an old + emigre lately returned from Germany, and pervading, cane in hand, a lean + ghost of the ancien regime, the garden walks of the young lady’s ancestral + home. + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert was not the man to be satisfied merely with the woman and + the fortune—when it came to the point. His pride (and pride aims + always at true success) would be satisfied with nothing short of love. But + as true pride excludes vanity, he could not imagine any reason why this + mysterious creature with deep and brilliant eyes of a violet colour should + have any feeling for him warmer than indifference. The young lady (her + name was Adele) baffled every attempt at a clear understanding on that + point. It is true that the attempts were clumsy and made timidly, because + by then General D’Hubert had become acutely aware of the number of his + years, of his wounds, of his many moral imperfections, of his secret + unworthiness—and had incidentally learned by experience the meaning + of the word funk. As far as he could make out she seemed to imply that, + with an unbounded confidence in her mother’s affection and sagacity, she + felt no unsurmountable dislike for the person of General D’Hubert; and + that this was quite sufficient for a well-brought-up young lady to begin + married life upon. This view hurt and tormented the pride of General + D’Hubert. And yet he asked himself, with a sort of sweet despair, what + more could he expect? She had a quiet and luminous forehead. Her violet + eyes laughed while the lines of her lips and chin remained composed in + admirable gravity. All this was set off by such a glorious mass of fair + hair, by a complexion so marvellous, by such a grace of expression, that + General D’Hubert really never found the opportunity to examine with + sufficient detachment the lofty exigencies of his pride. In fact, he + became shy of that line of inquiry since it had led once or twice to a + crisis of solitary passion in which it was borne upon him that he loved + her enough to kill her rather than lose her. From such passages, not + unknown to men of forty, he would come out broken, exhausted, remorseful, + a little dismayed. He derived, however, considerable comfort from the + quietist practice of sitting now and then half the night by an open window + and meditating upon the wonder of her existence, like a believer lost in + the mystic contemplation of his faith. + </p> + <p> + It must not be supposed that all these variations of his inward state were + made manifest to the world. General D ‘Hubert found no difficulty in + appearing wreathed in smiles. Because, in fact, he was very happy. He + followed the established rules of his condition, sending over flowers + (from his sister’s garden and hot-houses) early every morning, and a + little later following himself to lunch with his intended, her mother, and + her emigre uncle. The middle of the day was spent in strolling or sitting + in the shade. A watchful deference, trembling on the verge of tenderness + was the note of their intercourse on his side—with a playful turn of + the phrase concealing the profound trouble of his whole being caused by + her inaccessible nearness. Late in the afternoon General D ‘Hubert walked + home between the fields of vines, sometimes intensely miserable, sometimes + supremely happy, sometimes pensively sad; but always feeling a special + intensity of existence, that elation common to artists, poets, and lovers—to + men haunted by a great passion, a noble thought, or a new vision of + plastic beauty. + </p> + <p> + The outward world at that time did not exist with any special distinctness + for General D’Hubert. One evening, however, crossing a ridge from which he + could see both houses, General D’Hubert became aware of two figures far + down the road. The day had been divine. The festal decoration of the + inflamed sky lent a gentle glow to the sober tints of the southern land. + The grey rocks, the brown fields, the purple, undulating distances + harmonized in luminous accord, exhaled already the scents of the evening. + The two figures down the road presented themselves like two rigid and + wooden silhouettes all black on the ribbon of white dust. General D’Hubert + made out the long, straight, military capotes buttoned closely right up to + the black stocks, the cocked hats, the lean, carven, brown countenances—old + soldiers—vieilles moustaches! The taller of the two had a black + patch over one eye; the other’s hard, dry countenance presented some + bizarre, disquieting peculiarity, which on nearer approach proved to be + the absence of the tip of the nose. Lifting their hands with one movement + to salute the slightly lame civilian walking with a thick stick, they + inquired for the house where the General Baron D’Hubert lived, and what + was the best way to get speech with him quietly. + </p> + <p> + “If you think this quiet enough,” said General D’Hubert, looking round at + the vine-fields, framed in purple lines, and dominated by the nest of grey + and drab walls of a village clustering around the top of a conical hill, + so that the blunt church tower seemed but the shape of a crowning rock—“if + you think this spot quiet enough, you can speak to him at once. And I beg + you, comrades, to speak openly, with perfect confidence.” + </p> + <p> + They stepped back at this, and raised again their hands to their hats with + marked ceremoniousness. Then the one with the chipped nose, speaking for + both, remarked that the matter was confidential enough, and to be arranged + discreetly. Their general quarters were established in that village over + there, where the infernal clodhoppers—damn their false, Royalist + hearts!—looked remarkably cross-eyed at three unassuming military + men. For the present he should only ask for the name of General D’Hubert’s + friends. + </p> + <p> + “What friends?” said the astonished General D’Hubert, completely off the + track. “I am staying with my brother-in-law over there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he will do for one,” said the chipped veteran. + </p> + <p> + “We’re the friends of General Feraud,” interjected the other, who had kept + silent till then, only glowering with his one eye at the man who had never + loved the Emperor. That was something to look at. For even the gold-laced + Judases who had sold him to the English, the marshals and princes, had + loved him at some time or other. But this man had never loved the Emperor. + General Feraud had said so distinctly. + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert felt an inward blow in his chest. For an infinitesimal + fraction of a second it was as if the spinning of the earth had become + perceptible with an awful, slight rustle in the eternal stillness of + space. But this noise of blood in his ears passed off at once. + Involuntarily he murmured, “Feraud! I had forgotten his existence.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s existing at present, very uncomfortably, it is true, in the infamous + inn of that nest of savages up there,” said the one-eyed cuirassier, + drily. “We arrived in your parts an hour ago on post horses. He’s awaiting + our return with impatience. There is hurry, you know. The General has + broken the ministerial order to obtain from you the satisfaction he’s + entitled to by the laws of honour, and naturally he’s anxious to have it + all over before the gendarmerie gets on his scent.” + </p> + <p> + The other elucidated the idea a little further. “Get back on the quiet—you + understand? Phitt! No one the wiser. We have broken out, too. Your friend + the king would be glad to cut off our scurvy pittances at the first + chance. It’s a risk. But honour before everything.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert had recovered his powers of speech. “So you come here + like this along the road to invite me to a throat-cutting match with that—that + . . .” A laughing sort of rage took possession of him. “Ha! ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + His fists on his hips, he roared without restraint, while they stood + before him lank and straight, as though they had been shot up with a snap + through a trap door in the ground. Only four-and-twenty months ago the + masters of Europe, they had already the air of antique ghosts, they seemed + less substantial in their faded coats than their own narrow shadows + falling so black across the white road: the military and grotesque shadows + of twenty years of war and conquests. They had an outlandish appearance of + two imperturbable bonzes of the religion of the sword. And General + D’Hubert, also one of the ex-masters of Europe, laughed at these serious + phantoms standing in his way. + </p> + <p> + Said one, indicating the laughing General with a jerk of the head: “A + merry companion, that.” + </p> + <p> + “There are some of us that haven’t smiled from the day The Other went + away,” remarked his comrade. + </p> + <p> + A violent impulse to set upon and beat those unsubstantial wraiths to the + ground frightened General D’Hubert. He ceased laughing suddenly. His + desire now was to get rid of them, to get them away from his sight quickly + before he lost control of himself. He wondered at the fury he felt rising + in his breast. But he had no time to look into that peculiarity just then. + </p> + <p> + “I understand your wish to be done with me as quickly as possible. Don’t + let us waste time in empty ceremonies. Do you see that wood there at the + foot of that slope? Yes, the wood of pines. Let us meet there to-morrow at + sunrise. I will bring with me my sword or my pistols, or both if you + like.” + </p> + <p> + The seconds of General Feraud looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Pistols, General,” said the cuirassier. + </p> + <p> + “So be it. Au revoir—to-morrow morning. Till then let me advise you + to keep close if you don’t want the gendarmerie making inquiries about you + before it gets dark. Strangers are rare in this part of the country.” + </p> + <p> + They saluted in silence. General D’Hubert, turning his back on their + retreating forms, stood still in the middle of the road for a long time, + biting his lower lip and looking on the ground. Then he began to walk + straight before him, thus retracing his steps till he found himself before + the park gate of his intended’s house. Dusk had fallen. Motionless he + stared through the bars at the front of the house, gleaming clear beyond + the thickets and trees. Footsteps scrunched on the gravel, and presently a + tall stooping shape emerged from the lateral alley following the inner + side of the park wall. + </p> + <p> + Le Chevalier de Valmassigue, uncle of the adorable Adele, ex-brigadier in + the army of the Princes, bookbinder in Altona, afterwards shoemaker (with + a great reputation for elegance in the fit of ladies’ shoes) in another + small German town, wore silk stockings on his lean shanks, low shoes with + silver buckles, a brocaded waistcoat. A long-skirted coat, a la francaise, + covered loosely his thin, bowed back. A small three-cornered hat rested on + a lot of powdered hair, tied in a queue. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Chevalier,” called General D’Hubert, softly. + </p> + <p> + “What? You here again, mon ami? Have you forgotten something?” + </p> + <p> + “By heavens! that’s just it. I have forgotten something. I am come to tell + you of it. No—outside. Behind this wall. It’s too ghastly a thing to + be let in at all where she lives.” + </p> + <p> + The Chevalier came out at once with that benevolent resignation some old + people display towards the fugue of youth. Older by a quarter of a century + than General D’Hubert, he looked upon him in the secret of his heart as a + rather troublesome youngster in love. He had heard his enigmatical words + very well, but attached no undue importance to what a mere man of forty so + hard hit was likely to do or say. The turn of mind of the generation of + Frenchmen grown up during the years of his exile was almost unintelligible + to him. Their sentiments appeared to him unduly violent, lacking fineness + and measure, their language needlessly exaggerated. He joined calmly the + General on the road, and they made a few steps in silence, the General + trying to master his agitation, and get proper control of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly true; I forgot something. I forgot till half an hour ago + that I had an urgent affair of honour on my hands. It’s incredible, but it + is so!” + </p> + <p> + All was still for a moment. Then in the profound evening silence of the + countryside the clear, aged voice of the Chevalier was heard trembling + slightly: “Monsieur! That’s an indignity.” + </p> + <p> + It was his first thought. The girl born during his exile, the posthumous + daughter of his poor brother murdered by a band of Jacobins, had grown + since his return very dear to his old heart, which had been starving on + mere memories of affection for so many years. “It is an inconceivable + thing, I say! A man settles such affairs before he thinks of asking for a + young girl’s hand. Why! If you had forgotten for ten days longer, you + would have been married before your memory returned to you. In my time men + did not forget such things—nor yet what is due to the feelings of an + innocent young woman. If I did not respect them myself, I would qualify + your conduct in a way which you would not like.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert relieved himself frankly by a groan. “Don’t let that + consideration prevent you. You run no risk of offending her mortally.” + </p> + <p> + But the old man paid no attention to this lover’s nonsense. It’s doubtful + whether he even heard. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s the nature of . . . + ?” “Call it a youthful folly, Monsieur le Chevalier. An inconceivable, + incredible result of . . .” He stopped short. “He will never believe the + story,” he thought. “He will only think I am taking him for a fool, and + get offended.” General D’Hubert spoke up again: “Yes, originating in + youthful folly, it has become . . .” + </p> + <p> + The Chevalier interrupted: “Well, then it must be arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “Arranged?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, no matter at what cost to your amour propre. You should have + remembered you were engaged. You forgot that, too, I suppose. And then you + go and forget your quarrel. It’s the most hopeless exhibition of levity I + ever heard of.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Monsieur! You don’t imagine I have been picking up this + quarrel last time I was in Paris, or anything of the sort, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! What matters the precise date of your insane conduct,” exclaimed the + Chevalier, testily. “The principal thing is to arrange it.” + </p> + <p> + Noticing General D’Hubert getting restive and trying to place a word, the + old emigre raised his hand, and added with dignity, “I’ve been a soldier, + too. I would never dare suggest a doubtful step to the man whose name my + niece is to bear. I tell you that entre galants hommes an affair can + always be arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “But saperiotte, Monsieur le Chevalier, it’s fifteen or sixteen years ago. + I was a lieutenant of hussars then.” + </p> + <p> + The old Chevalier seemed confounded by the vehemently despairing tone of + this information. “You were a lieutenant of hussars sixteen years ago,” he + mumbled in a dazed manner. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes! You did not suppose I was made a general in my cradle like a + royal prince.” + </p> + <p> + In the deepening purple twilight of the fields spread with vine leaves, + backed by a low band of sombre crimson in the west, the voice of the old + ex-officer in the army of the Princes sounded collected, punctiliously + civil. + </p> + <p> + “Do I dream? Is this a pleasantry? Or am I to understand that you have + been hatching an affair of honour for sixteen years?” + </p> + <p> + “It has clung to me for that length of time. That is my precise meaning. + The quarrel itself is not to be explained easily. We met on the ground + several times during that time, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “What manners! What horrible perversion of manliness! Nothing can account + for such inhumanity but the sanguinary madness of the Revolution which has + tainted a whole generation,” mused the returned emigre in a low tone. + “Who’s your adversary?” he asked a little louder. + </p> + <p> + “My adversary? His name is Feraud.” + </p> + <p> + Shadowy in his tricorne and old-fashioned clothes, like a bowed, thin + ghost of the ancien regime, the Chevalier voiced a ghostly memory. “I can + remember the feud about little Sophie Derval, between Monsieur de Brissac, + Captain in the Bodyguards, and d’Anjorrant (not the pock-marked one, the + other—the Beau d’Anjorrant, as they called him). They met three + times in eighteen months in a most gallant manner. It was the fault of + that little Sophie, too, who would keep on playing . . .” + </p> + <p> + “This is nothing of the kind,” interrupted General D’Hubert. He laughed a + little sardonically. “Not at all so simple,” he added. “Nor yet half so + reasonable,” he finished, inaudibly, between his teeth, and ground them + with rage. + </p> + <p> + After this sound nothing troubled the silence for a long time, till the + Chevalier asked, without animation: “What is he—this Feraud?” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant of hussars, too—I mean, he’s a general. A Gascon. Son of + a blacksmith, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “There! I thought so. That Bonaparte had a special predilection for the + canaille. I don’t mean this for you, D’Hubert. You are one of us, though + you have served this usurper, who . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s leave him out of this,” broke in General D’Hubert. + </p> + <p> + The Chevalier shrugged his peaked shoulders. “Feraud of sorts. Offspring + of a blacksmith and some village troll. See what comes of mixing yourself + up with that sort of people.” + </p> + <p> + “You have made shoes yourself, Chevalier.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I am not the son of a shoemaker. Neither are you, Monsieur + D’Hubert. You and I have something that your Bonaparte’s princes, dukes, + and marshals have not, because there’s no power on earth that could give + it to them,” retorted the emigre, with the rising animation of a man who + has got hold of a hopeful argument. “Those people don’t exist—all + these Ferauds. Feraud! What is Feraud? A va-nu-pieds disguised into a + general by a Corsican adventurer masquerading as an emperor. There is no + earthly reason for a D’Hubert to s’encanailler by a duel with a person of + that sort. You can make your excuses to him perfectly well. And if the + manant takes into his head to decline them, you may simply refuse to meet + him.” + </p> + <p> + “You say I may do that?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. With the clearest conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Chevalier! To what do you think you have returned from your + emigration?” + </p> + <p> + This was said in such a startling tone that the old man raised sharply his + bowed head, glimmering silvery white under the points of the little + tricorne. For a time he made no sound. + </p> + <p> + “God knows!” he said at last, pointing with a slow and grave gesture at a + tall roadside cross mounted on a block of stone, and stretching its arms + of forged iron all black against the darkening red band in the sky—“God + knows! If it were not for this emblem, which I remember seeing on this + spot as a child, I would wonder to what we who remained faithful to God + and our king have returned. The very voices of the people have changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a changed France,” said General D’Hubert. He seemed to have + regained his calm. His tone was slightly ironic. “Therefore I cannot take + your advice. Besides, how is one to refuse to be bitten by a dog that + means to bite? It’s impracticable. Take my word for it—Feraud isn’t + a man to be stayed by apologies or refusals. But there are other ways. I + could, for instance, send a messenger with a word to the brigadier of the + gendarmerie in Senlac. He and his two friends are liable to arrest on my + simple order. It would make some talk in the army, both the organized and + the disbanded—especially the disbanded. All canaille! All once upon + a time the companions in arms of Armand D’Hubert. But what need a D’Hubert + care what people that don’t exist may think? Or, better still, I might get + my brother-in-law to send for the mayor of the village and give him a + hint. No more would be needed to get the three ‘brigands’ set upon with + flails and pitchforks and hunted into some nice, deep, wet ditch—and + nobody the wiser! It has been done only ten miles from here to three poor + devils of the disbanded Red Lancers of the Guard going to their homes. + What says your conscience, Chevalier? Can a D’Hubert do that thing to + three men who do not exist?” + </p> + <p> + A few stars had come out on the blue obscurity, clear as crystal, of the + sky. The dry, thin voice of the Chevalier spoke harshly: “Why are you + telling me all this?” + </p> + <p> + The General seized the withered old hand with a strong grip. “Because I + owe you my fullest confidence. Who could tell Adele but you? You + understand why I dare not trust my brother-in-law nor yet my own sister. + Chevalier! I have been so near doing these things that I tremble yet. You + don’t know how terrible this duel appears to me. And there’s no escape + from it.” + </p> + <p> + He murmured after a pause, “It’s a fatality,” dropped the Chevalier’s + passive hand, and said in his ordinary conversational voice, “I shall have + to go without seconds. If it is my lot to remain on the ground, you at + least will know all that can be made known of this affair.” + </p> + <p> + The shadowy ghost of the ancien regime seemed to have become more bowed + during the conversation. “How am I to keep an indifferent face this + evening before these two women?” he groaned. “General! I find it very + difficult to forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + General D ‘Hubert made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Is your cause good, at least?” + </p> + <p> + “I am innocent.” + </p> + <p> + This time he seized the Chevalier’s ghostly arm above the elbow, and gave + it a mighty squeeze. “I must kill him!” he hissed, and opening his hand + strode away down the road. + </p> + <p> + The delicate attentions of his adoring sister had secured for the General + perfect liberty of movement in the house where he was a guest. He had even + his own entrance through a small door in one corner of the orangery. Thus + he was not exposed that evening to the necessity of dissembling his + agitation before the calm ignorance of the other inmates. He was glad of + it. It seemed to him that if he had to open his lips he would break out + into horrible and aimless imprecations, start breaking furniture, smashing + china and glass. From the moment he opened the private door and while + ascending the twenty-eight steps of a winding staircase, giving access to + the corridor on which his room opened, he went through a horrible and + humiliating scene in which an infuriated madman with blood-shot eyes and a + foaming mouth played inconceivable havoc with everything inanimate that + may be found in a well-appointed dining-room. When he opened the door of + his apartment the fit was over, and his bodily fatigue was so great that + he had to catch at the backs of the chairs while crossing the room to + reach a low and broad divan on which he let himself fall heavily. His + moral prostration was still greater. That brutality of feeling which he + had known only when charging the enemy, sabre in hand, amazed this man of + forty, who did not recognize in it the instinctive fury of his menaced + passion. But in his mental and bodily exhaustion this passion got cleared, + distilled, refined into a sentiment of melancholy despair at having, + perhaps, to die before he had taught this beautiful girl to love him. + </p> + <p> + That night, General D’Hubert stretched out on his back with his hands over + his eyes, or lying on his breast with his face buried in a cushion, made + the full pilgrimage of emotions. Nauseating disgust at the absurdity of + the situation, doubt of his own fitness to conduct his existence, and + mistrust of his best sentiments (for what the devil did he want to go to + Fouche for?)—he knew them all in turn. “I am an idiot, neither more + nor less,” he thought—“A sensitive idiot. Because I overheard two + men talking in a cafe. . . . I am an idiot afraid of lies—whereas in + life it is only truth that matters.” + </p> + <p> + Several times he got up and, walking in his socks in order not to be heard + by anybody downstairs, drank all the water he could find in the dark. And + he tasted the torments of jealousy, too. She would marry somebody else. + His very soul writhed. The tenacity of that Feraud, the awful persistence + of that imbecile brute, came to him with the tremendous force of a + relentless destiny. General D’Hubert trembled as he put down the empty + water ewer. “He will have me,” he thought. General D’Hubert was tasting + every emotion that life has to give. He had in his dry mouth the faint + sickly flavour of fear, not the excusable fear before a young girl’s + candid and amused glance, but the fear of death and the honourable man’s + fear of cowardice. + </p> + <p> + But if true courage consists in going out to meet an odious danger from + which our body, soul, and heart recoil together, General D’Hubert had the + opportunity to practise it for the first time in his life. He had charged + exultingly at batteries and at infantry squares, and ridden with messages + through a hail of bullets without thinking anything about it. His business + now was to sneak out unheard, at break of day, to an obscure and revolting + death. General D’Hubert never hesitated. He carried two pistols in a + leather bag which he slung over his shoulder. Before he had crossed the + garden his mouth was dry again. He picked two oranges. It was only after + shutting the gate after him that he felt a slight faintness. + </p> + <p> + He staggered on, disregarding it, and after going a few yards regained the + command of his legs. In the colourless and pellucid dawn the wood of pines + detached its columns of trunks and its dark green canopy very clearly + against the rocks of the grey hillside. He kept his eyes fixed on it + steadily, and sucked at an orange as he walked. That temperamental + good-humoured coolness in the face of danger which had made him an officer + liked by his men and appreciated by his superiors was gradually asserting + itself. It was like going into battle. Arriving at the edge of the wood he + sat down on a boulder, holding the other orange in his hand, and + reproached himself for coming so ridiculously early on the ground. Before + very long, however, he heard the swishing of bushes, footsteps on the hard + ground, and the sounds of a disjointed, loud conversation. A voice + somewhere behind him said boastfully, “He’s game for my bag.” + </p> + <p> + He thought to himself, “Here they are. What’s this about game? Are they + talking of me?” And becoming aware of the other orange in his hand, he + thought further, “These are very good oranges. Leonie’s own tree. I may + just as well eat this orange now instead of flinging it away.” + </p> + <p> + Emerging from a wilderness of rocks and bushes, General Feraud and his + seconds discovered General D’Hubert engaged in peeling the orange. They + stood still, waiting till he looked up. Then the seconds raised their + hats, while General Feraud, putting his hands behind his back, walked + aside a little way. + </p> + <p> + “I am compelled to ask one of you, messieurs, to act for me. I have + brought no friends. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + The one-eyed cuirassier said judicially, “That cannot be refused.” + </p> + <p> + The other veteran remarked, “It’s awkward all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Owing to the state of the people’s minds in this part of the country + there was no one I could trust safely with the object of your presence + here,” explained General D’Hubert, urbanely. + </p> + <p> + They saluted, looked round, and remarked both together: + </p> + <p> + “Poor ground.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s unfit.” + </p> + <p> + “Why bother about ground, measurements, and so on? Let us simplify + matters. Load the two pairs of pistols. I will take those of General + Feraud, and let him take mine. Or, better still, let us take a mixed pair. + One of each pair. Then let us go into the wood and shoot at sight, while + you remain outside. We did not come here for ceremonies, but for war—war + to the death. Any ground is good enough for that. If I fall, you must + leave me where I lie and clear out. It wouldn’t be healthy for you to be + found hanging about here after that.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared after a short parley that General Feraud was willing to accept + these conditions. While the seconds were loading the pistols, he could be + heard whistling, and was seen to rub his hands with perfect contentment. + He flung off his coat briskly, and General D ‘Hubert took off his own and + folded it carefully on a stone. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you take your principal to the other side of the wood and let him + enter exactly in ten minutes from now,” suggested General D’Hubert, + calmly, but feeling as if he were giving directions for his own execution. + This, however, was his last moment of weakness. “Wait. Let us compare + watches first.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled out his own. The officer with the chipped nose went over to + borrow the watch of General Feraud. They bent their heads over them for a + time. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it. At four minutes to six by yours. Seven to by mine.” + </p> + <p> + It was the cuirassier who remained by the side of General D’Hubert, + keeping his one eye fixed immovably on the white face of the watch he held + in the palm of his hand. He opened his mouth, waiting for the beat of the + last second long before he snapped out the word, “Avancez.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert moved on, passing from the glaring sunshine of the + Provencal morning into the cool and aromatic shade of the pines. The + ground was clear between the reddish trunks, whose multitude, leaning at + slightly different angles, confused his eye at first. It was like going + into battle. The commanding quality of confidence in himself woke up in + his breast. He was all to his affair. The problem was how to kill the + adversary. Nothing short of that would free him from this imbecile + nightmare. “It’s no use wounding that brute,” thought General D’Hubert. He + was known as a resourceful officer. His comrades years ago used also to + call him The Strategist. And it was a fact that he could think in the + presence of the enemy. Whereas Feraud had been always a mere fighter—but + a dead shot, unluckily. + </p> + <p> + “I must draw his fire at the greatest possible range,” said General + D’Hubert to himself. + </p> + <p> + At that moment he saw something white moving far off between the trees—the + shirt of his adversary. He stepped out at once between the trunks, + exposing himself freely; then, quick as lightning, leaped back. It had + been a risky move but it succeeded in its object. Almost simultaneously + with the pop of a shot a small piece of bark chipped off by the bullet + stung his ear painfully. + </p> + <p> + General Feraud, with one shot expended, was getting cautious. Peeping + round the tree, General D’Hubert could not see him at all. This ignorance + of the foe’s whereabouts carried with it a sense of insecurity. General + D’Hubert felt himself abominably exposed on his flank and rear. Again + something white fluttered in his sight. Ha! The enemy was still on his + front, then. He had feared a turning movement. But apparently General + Feraud was not thinking of it. General D’Hubert saw him pass without + special haste from one tree to another in the straight line of approach. + With great firmness of mind General D’Hubert stayed his hand. Too far yet. + He knew he was no marksman. His must be a waiting game—to kill. + </p> + <p> + Wishing to take advantage of the greater thickness of the trunk, he sank + down to the ground. Extended at full length, head on to his enemy, he had + his person completely protected. Exposing himself would not do now, + because the other was too near by this time. A conviction that Feraud + would presently do something rash was like balm to General D’Hubert’s + soul. But to keep his chin raised off the ground was irksome, and not much + use either. He peeped round, exposing a fraction of his head with dread, + but really with little risk. His enemy, as a matter of fact, did not + expect to see anything of him so far down as that. General D’Hubert caught + a fleeting view of General Feraud shifting trees again with deliberate + caution. “He despises my shooting,” he thought, displaying that insight + into the mind of his antagonist which is of such great help in winning + battles. He was confirmed in his tactics of immobility. “If I could only + watch my rear as well as my front!” he thought anxiously, longing for the + impossible. + </p> + <p> + It required some force of character to lay his pistols down; but, on a + sudden impulse, General D’Hubert did this very gently—one on each + side of him. In the army he had been looked upon as a bit of a dandy + because he used to shave and put on a clean shirt on the days of battle. + As a matter of fact, he had always been very careful of his personal + appearance. In a man of nearly forty, in love with a young and charming + girl, this praiseworthy self-respect may run to such little weaknesses as, + for instance, being provided with an elegant little leather folding-case + containing a small ivory comb, and fitted with a piece of looking-glass on + the outside. General D’Hubert, his hands being free, felt in his breeches’ + pockets for that implement of innocent vanity excusable in the possessor + of long, silky moustaches. He drew it out, and then with the utmost + coolness and promptitude turned himself over on his back. In this new + attitude, his head a little raised, holding the little looking-glass just + clear of his tree, he squinted into it with his left eye, while the right + kept a direct watch on the rear of his position. Thus was proved + Napoleon’s saying, that “for a French soldier, the word impossible does + not exist.” He had the right tree nearly filling the field of his little + mirror. + </p> + <p> + “If he moves from behind it,” he reflected with satisfaction, “I am bound + to see his legs. But in any case he can’t come upon me unawares.” + </p> + <p> + And sure enough he saw the boots of General Feraud flash in and out, + eclipsing for an instant everything else reflected in the little mirror. + He shifted its position accordingly. But having to form his judgment of + the change from that indirect view he did not realize that now his feet + and a portion of his legs were in plain sight of General Feraud. + </p> + <p> + General Feraud had been getting gradually impressed by the amazing + cleverness with which his enemy was keeping cover. He had spotted the + right tree with bloodthirsty precision. He was absolutely certain of it. + And yet he had not been able to glimpse as much as the tip of an ear. As + he had been looking for it at the height of about five feet ten inches + from the ground it was no great wonder—but it seemed very wonderful + to General Feraud. + </p> + <p> + The first view of these feet and legs determined a rush of blood to his + head. He literally staggered behind his tree, and had to steady himself + against it with his hand. The other was lying on the ground, then! On the + ground! Perfectly still, too! Exposed! What could it mean? . . . The + notion that he had knocked over his adversary at the first shot entered + then General Feraud’s head. Once there it grew with every second of + attentive gazing, overshadowing every other supposition—irresistible, + triumphant, ferocious. + </p> + <p> + “What an ass I was to think I could have missed him,” he muttered to + himself. “He was exposed en plein—the fool!—for quite a couple + of seconds.” + </p> + <p> + General Feraud gazed at the motionless limbs, the last vestiges of + surprise fading before an unbounded admiration of his own deadly skill + with the pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Turned up his toes! By the god of war, that was a shot!” he exulted + mentally. “Got it through the head, no doubt, just where I aimed, + staggered behind that tree, rolled over on his back, and died.” + </p> + <p> + And he stared! He stared, forgetting to move, almost awed, almost sorry. + But for nothing in the world would he have had it undone. Such a shot!—such + a shot! Rolled over on his back and died! + </p> + <p> + For it was this helpless position, lying on the back, that shouted its + direct evidence at General Feraud! It never occurred to him that it might + have been deliberately assumed by a living man. It was inconceivable. It + was beyond the range of sane supposition. There was no possibility to + guess the reason for it. And it must be said, too, that General D’Hubert’s + turned-up feet looked thoroughly dead. General Feraud expanded his lungs + for a stentorian shout to his seconds, but, from what he felt to be an + excessive scrupulousness, refrained for a while. + </p> + <p> + “I will just go and see first whether he breathes yet,” he mumbled to + himself, leaving carelessly the shelter of his tree. This move was + immediately perceived by the resourceful General D’Hubert. He concluded it + to be another shift, but when he lost the boots out of the field of the + mirror he became uneasy. General Feraud had only stepped a little out of + the line, but his adversary could not possibly have supposed him walking + up with perfect unconcern. General D’Hubert, beginning to wonder at what + had become of the other, was taken unawares so completely that the first + warning of danger consisted in the long, early-morning shadow of his enemy + falling aslant on his outstretched legs. He had not even heard a footfall + on the soft ground between the trees! + </p> + <p> + It was too much even for his coolness. He jumped up thoughtlessly, leaving + the pistols on the ground. The irresistible instinct of an average man + (unless totally paralyzed by discomfiture) would have been to stoop for + his weapons, exposing himself to the risk of being shot down in that + position. Instinct, of course, is irreflective. It is its very definition. + But it may be an inquiry worth pursuing whether in reflective mankind the + mechanical promptings of instinct are not affected by the customary mode + of thought. In his young days, Armand D’Hubert, the reflective, promising + officer, had emitted the opinion that in warfare one should “never cast + back on the lines of a mistake.” This idea, defended and developed in many + discussions, had settled into one of the stock notions of his brain, had + become a part of his mental individuality. Whether it had gone so + inconceivably deep as to affect the dictates of his instinct, or simply + because, as he himself declared afterwards, he was “too scared to remember + the confounded pistols,” the fact is that General D’Hubert never attempted + to stoop for them. Instead of going back on his mistake, he seized the + rough trunk with both hands, and swung himself behind it with such + impetuosity that, going right round in the very flash and report of the + pistol-shot, he reappeared on the other side of the tree face to face with + General Feraud. This last, completely unstrung by such a show of agility + on the part of a dead man, was trembling yet. A very faint mist of smoke + hung before his face which had an extraordinary aspect, as if the lower + jaw had come unhinged. + </p> + <p> + “Not missed!” he croaked, hoarsely, from the depths of a dry throat. + </p> + <p> + This sinister sound loosened the spell that had fallen on General + D’Hubert’s senses. “Yes, missed—a bout portant,” he heard himself + saying, almost before he had recovered the full command of his faculties. + The revulsion of feeling was accompanied by a gust of homicidal fury, + resuming in its violence the accumulated resentment of a lifetime. For + years General D ‘Hubert had been exasperated and humiliated by an + atrocious absurdity imposed upon him by this man’s savage caprice. + Besides, General D’Hubert had been in this last instance too unwilling to + confront death for the reaction of his anguish not to take the shape of a + desire to kill. “And I have my two shots to fire yet,” he added, + pitilessly. + </p> + <p> + General Feraud snapped-to his teeth, and his face assumed an irate, + undaunted expression. “Go on!” he said, grimly. + </p> + <p> + These would have been his last words if General D’Hubert had been holding + the pistols in his hands. But the pistols were lying on the ground at the + foot of a pine. General D’Hubert had the second of leisure necessary to + remember that he had dreaded death not as a man, but as a lover; not as a + danger, but as a rival; not as a foe to life, but as an obstacle to + marriage. And behold! there was the rival defeated!—utterly + defeated, crushed, done for! + </p> + <p> + He picked up the weapons mechanically, and, instead of firing them into + General Feraud’s breast, he gave expression to the thoughts uppermost in + his mind, “You will fight no more duels now.” + </p> + <p> + His tone of leisurely, ineffable satisfaction was too much for General + Feraud’s stoicism. “Don’t dawdle, then, damn you for a cold-blooded + staff-coxcomb!” he roared out, suddenly, out of an impassive face held + erect on a rigidly still body. + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert uncocked the pistols carefully. This proceeding was + observed with mixed feelings by the other general. “You missed me twice,” + the victor said, coolly, shifting both pistols to one hand; “the last time + within a foot or so. By every rule of single combat your life belongs to + me. That does not mean that I want to take it now.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no use for your forbearance,” muttered General Feraud, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to point out that this is no concern of mine,” said General + D’Hubert, whose every word was dictated by a consummate delicacy of + feeling. In anger he could have killed that man, but in cold blood he + recoiled from humiliating by a show of generosity this unreasonable being—a + fellow-soldier of the Grande Armee, a companion in the wonders and terrors + of the great military epic. “You don’t set up the pretension of dictating + to me what I am to do with what’s my own.” + </p> + <p> + General Feraud looked startled, and the other continued, “You’ve forced me + on a point of honour to keep my life at your disposal, as it were, for + fifteen years. Very well. Now that the matter is decided to my advantage, + I am going to do what I like with your life on the same principle. You + shall keep it at my disposal as long as I choose. Neither more nor less. + You are on your honour till I say the word.” + </p> + <p> + “I am! But, sacrebleu! This is an absurd position for a General of the + Empire to be placed in!” cried General Feraud, in accents of profound and + dismayed conviction. “It amounts to sitting all the rest of my life with a + loaded pistol in a drawer waiting for your word. It’s—it’s idiotic; + I shall be an object of—of—derision.” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd?—idiotic? Do you think so?” queried General D’Hubert with + sly gravity. “Perhaps. But I don’t see how that can be helped. However, I + am not likely to talk at large of this adventure. Nobody need ever know + anything about it. Just as no one to this day, I believe, knows the origin + of our quarrel. . . . Not a word more,” he added, hastily. “I can’t really + discuss this question with a man who, as far as I am concerned, does not + exist.” + </p> + <p> + When the two duellists came out into the open, General Feraud walking a + little behind, and rather with the air of walking in a trance, the two + seconds hurried towards them, each from his station at the edge of the + wood. General D’Hubert addressed them, speaking loud and distinctly, + “Messieurs, I make it a point of declaring to you solemnly, in the + presence of General Feraud, that our difference is at last settled for + good. You may inform all the world of that fact.” + </p> + <p> + “A reconciliation, after all!” they exclaimed together. + </p> + <p> + “Reconciliation? Not that exactly. It is something much more binding. Is + it not so, General?” + </p> + <p> + General Feraud only lowered his head in sign of assent. The two veterans + looked at each other. Later in the day, when they found themselves alone + out of their moody friend’s earshot, the cuirassier remarked suddenly, + “Generally speaking, I can see with my one eye as far as most people; but + this beats me. He won’t say anything.” + </p> + <p> + “In this affair of honour I understand there has been from first to last + always something that no one in the army could quite make out,” declared + the chasseur with the imperfect nose. “In mystery it began, in mystery it + went on, in mystery it is to end, apparently.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert walked home with long, hasty strides, by no means + uplifted by a sense of triumph. He had conquered, yet it did not seem to + him that he had gained very much by his conquest. The night before he had + grudged the risk of his life which appeared to him magnificent, worthy of + preservation as an opportunity to win a girl’s love. He had known moments + when, by a marvellous illusion, this love seemed to be already his, and + his threatened life a still more magnificent opportunity of devotion. Now + that his life was safe it had suddenly lost its special magnificence. It + had acquired instead a specially alarming aspect as a snare for the + exposure of unworthiness. As to the marvellous illusion of conquered love + that had visited him for a moment in the agitated watches of the night, + which might have been his last on earth, he comprehended now its true + nature. It had been merely a paroxysm of delirious conceit. Thus to this + man, sobered by the victorious issue of a duel, life appeared robbed of + its charm, simply because it was no longer menaced. + </p> + <p> + Approaching the house from the back, through the orchard and the kitchen + garden, he could not notice the agitation which reigned in front. He never + met a single soul. Only while walking softly along the corridor, he became + aware that the house was awake and more noisy than usual. Names of + servants were being called out down below in a confused noise of coming + and going. With some concern he noticed that the door of his own room + stood ajar, though the shutters had not been opened yet. He had hoped that + his early excursion would have passed unperceived. He expected to find + some servant just gone in; but the sunshine filtering through the usual + cracks enabled him to see lying on the low divan something bulky, which + had the appearance of two women clasped in each other’s arms. Tearful and + desolate murmurs issued mysteriously from that appearance. General + D’Hubert pulled open the nearest pair of shutters violently. One of the + women then jumped up. It was his sister. She stood for a moment with her + hair hanging down and her arms raised straight up above her head, and then + flung herself with a stifled cry into his arms. He returned her embrace, + trying at the same time to disengage himself from it. The other woman had + not risen. She seemed, on the contrary, to cling closer to the divan, + hiding her face in the cushions. Her hair was also loose; it was admirably + fair. General D’Hubert recognized it with staggering emotion. Mademoiselle + de Valmassigue! Adele! In distress! + </p> + <p> + He became greatly alarmed, and got rid of his sister’s hug definitely. + Madame Leonie then extended her shapely bare arm out of her peignoir, + pointing dramatically at the divan. “This poor, terrified child has rushed + here from home, on foot, two miles—running all the way.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth has happened?” asked General D’Hubert in a low, agitated + voice. + </p> + <p> + But Madame Leonie was speaking loudly. “She rang the great bell at the + gate and roused all the household—we were all asleep yet. You may + imagine what a terrible shock. . . . Adele, my dear child, sit up.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert’s expression was not that of a man who “imagines” with + facility. He did, however, fish out of the chaos of surmises the notion + that his prospective mother-in-law had died suddenly, but only to dismiss + it at once. He could not conceive the nature of the event or the + catastrophe which would induce Mademoiselle de Valmassigue, living in a + house full of servants, to bring the news over the fields herself, two + miles, running all the way. + </p> + <p> + “But why are you in this room?” he whispered, full of awe. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I ran up to see, and this child . . . I did not notice it . . + . she followed me. It’s that absurd Chevalier,” went on Madame Leonie, + looking towards the divan. . . . “Her hair is all come down. You may + imagine she did not stop to call her maid to dress it before she started. + . . Adele, my dear, sit up. . . . He blurted it all out to her at + half-past five in the morning. She woke up early and opened her shutters + to breathe the fresh air, and saw him sitting collapsed on a garden bench + at the end of the great alley. At that hour—you may imagine! And the + evening before he had declared himself indisposed. She hurried on some + clothes and flew down to him. One would be anxious for less. He loves her, + but not very intelligently. He had been up all night, fully dressed, the + poor old man, perfectly exhausted. He wasn’t in a state to invent a + plausible story. . . . What a confidant you chose there! My husband was + furious. He said, ‘We can’t interfere now.’ So we sat down to wait. It was + awful. And this poor child running with her hair loose over here publicly! + She has been seen by some people in the fields. She has roused the whole + household, too. It’s awkward for her. Luckily you are to be married next + week. . . . Adele, sit up. He has come home on his own legs. . . . We + expected to see you coming on a stretcher, perhaps—what do I know? + Go and see if the carriage is ready. I must take this child home at once. + It isn’t proper for her to stay here a minute longer.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert did not move. It was as though he had heard nothing. + Madame Leonie changed her mind. “I will go and see myself,” she cried. “I + want also my cloak.—Adele—” she began, but did not add “sit + up.” She went out saying, in a very loud and cheerful tone: “I leave the + door open.” + </p> + <p> + General D’Hubert made a movement towards the divan, but then Adele sat up, + and that checked him dead. He thought, “I haven’t washed this morning. I + must look like an old tramp. There’s earth on the back of my coat and + pine-needles in my hair.” It occurred to him that the situation required a + good deal of circumspection on his part. + </p> + <p> + “I am greatly concerned, mademoiselle,” he began, vaguely, and abandoned + that line. She was sitting up on the divan with her cheeks unusually pink + and her hair, brilliantly fair, falling all over her shoulders—which + was a very novel sight to the general. He walked away up the room, and + looking out of the window for safety said, “I fear you must think I + behaved like a madman,” in accents of sincere despair. Then he spun round, + and noticed that she had followed him with her eyes. They were not cast + down on meeting his glance. And the expression of her face was novel to + him also. It was, one might have said, reversed. Those eyes looked at him + with grave thoughtfulness, while the exquisite lines of her mouth seemed + to suggest a restrained smile. This change made her transcendental beauty + much less mysterious, much more accessible to a man’s comprehension. An + amazing ease of mind came to the general—and even some ease of + manner. He walked down the room with as much pleasurable excitement as he + would have found in walking up to a battery vomiting death, fire, and + smoke; then stood looking down with smiling eyes at the girl whose + marriage with him (next week) had been so carefully arranged by the wise, + the good, the admirable Leonie. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! mademoiselle,” he said, in a tone of courtly regret, “if only I could + be certain that you did not come here this morning, two miles, running all + the way, merely from affection for your mother!” + </p> + <p> + He waited for an answer imperturbable but inwardly elated. It came in a + demure murmur, eyelashes lowered with fascinating effect. “You must not be + mechant as well as mad.” + </p> + <p> + And then General D’Hubert made an aggressive movement towards the divan + which nothing could check. That piece of furniture was not exactly in the + line of the open door. But Madame Leonie, coming back wrapped up in a + light cloak and carrying a lace shawl on her arm for Adele to hide her + incriminating hair under, had a swift impression of her brother getting up + from his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, my dear child,” she cried from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + The general, now himself again in the fullest sense, showed the readiness + of a resourceful cavalry officer and the peremptoriness of a leader of + men. “You don’t expect her to walk to the carriage,” he said, indignantly. + “She isn’t fit. I shall carry her downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + This he did slowly, followed by his awed and respectful sister; but he + rushed back like a whirlwind to wash off all the signs of the night of + anguish and the morning of war, and to put on the festive garments of a + conqueror before hurrying over to the other house. Had it not been for + that, General D ‘Hubert felt capable of mounting a horse and pursuing his + late adversary in order simply to embrace him from excess of happiness. “I + owe it all to this stupid brute,” he thought. “He has made plain in a + morning what might have taken me years to find out—for I am a timid + fool. No self-confidence whatever. Perfect coward. And the Chevalier! + Delightful old man!” General D’Hubert longed to embrace him also. + </p> + <p> + The Chevalier was in bed. For several days he was very unwell. The men of + the Empire and the post-revolution young ladies were too much for him. He + got up the day before the wedding, and, being curious by nature, took his + niece aside for a quiet talk. He advised her to find out from her husband + the true story of the affair of honour, whose claim, so imperative and so + persistent, had led her to within an ace of tragedy. “It is right that his + wife should be told. And next month or so will be your time to learn from + him anything you want to know, my dear child.” + </p> + <p> + Later on, when the married couple came on a visit to the mother of the + bride, Madame la Generale D’Hubert communicated to her beloved old uncle + the true story she had obtained without any difficulty from her husband. + </p> + <p> + The Chevalier listened with deep attention to the end, took a pinch of + snuff, flicked the grains of tobacco from the frilled front of his shirt, + and asked, calmly, “And that’s all it was?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, uncle,” replied Madame la Generale, opening her pretty eyes very + wide. “Isn’t it funny? C’est insense—to think what men are capable + of!” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” commented the old emigre. “It depends what sort of men. That + Bonaparte’s soldiers were savages. It is insense. As a wife, my dear, you + must believe implicitly what your husband says.” + </p> + <p> + But to Leonie’s husband the Chevalier confided his true opinion. “If + that’s the tale the fellow made up for his wife, and during the honeymoon, + too, you may depend on it that no one will ever know now the secret of + this affair.” + </p> + <p> + Considerably later still, General D’Hubert judged the time come, and the + opportunity propitious to write a letter to General Feraud. This letter + began by disclaiming all animosity. “I’ve never,” wrote the General Baron + D’Hubert, “wished for your death during all the time of our deplorable + quarrel. Allow me,” he continued, “to give you back in all form your + forfeited life. It is proper that we two, who have been partners in so + much military glory, should be friendly to each other publicly.” + </p> + <p> + The same letter contained also an item of domestic information. It was in + reference to this last that General Feraud answered from a little village + on the banks of the Garonne, in the following words: + </p> + <p> + “If one of your boy’s names had been Napoleon—or Joseph—or + even Joachim, I could congratulate you on the event with a better heart. + As you have thought proper to give him the names of Charles Henri Armand, + I am confirmed in my conviction that you never loved the Emperor. The + thought of that sublime hero chained to a rock in the middle of a savage + ocean makes life of so little value that I would receive with positive joy + your instructions to blow my brains out. From suicide I consider myself in + honour debarred. But I keep a loaded pistol in my drawer.” + </p> + <p> + Madame la Generale D’Hubert lifted up her hands in despair after perusing + that answer. + </p> + <p> + “You see? He won’t be reconciled,” said her husband. “He must never, by + any chance, be allowed to guess where the money comes from. It wouldn’t + do. He couldn’t bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a brave homme, Armand,” said Madame la Generale, appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I had the right to blow his brains out; but as I didn’t, we + can’t let him starve. He has lost his pension and he is utterly incapable + of doing anything in the world for himself. We must take care of him, + secretly, to the end of his days. Don’t I owe him the most ecstatic moment + of my life? . . . Ha! ha! ha! Over the fields, two miles, running all the + way! I couldn’t believe my ears! . . . But for his stupid ferocity, it + would have taken me years to find you out. It’s extraordinary how in one + way or another this man has managed to fasten himself on my deeper + feelings.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IL CONDE + </h2> + <h3> + A PATHETIC TALE + </h3> + <p> + “<i>Vedi Napoli e poi mori</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The first time we got into conversation was in the National Museum in + Naples, in the rooms on the ground floor containing the famous collection + of bronzes from Herculaneum and Pompeii: that marvellous legacy of antique + art whose delicate perfection has been preserved for us by the + catastrophic fury of a volcano. + </p> + <p> + He addressed me first, over the celebrated Resting Hermes which we had + been looking at side by side. He said the right things about that wholly + admirable piece. Nothing profound. His taste was natural rather than + cultivated. He had obviously seen many fine things in his life and + appreciated them: but he had no jargon of a dilettante or the connoisseur. + A hateful tribe. He spoke like a fairly intelligent man of the world, a + perfectly unaffected gentleman. + </p> + <p> + We had known each other by sight for some few days past. Staying in the + same hotel—good, but not extravagantly up to date—I had + noticed him in the vestibule going in and out. I judged he was an old and + valued client. The bow of the hotel-keeper was cordial in its deference, + and he acknowledged it with familiar courtesy. For the servants he was Il + Conde. There was some squabble over a man’s parasol—yellow silk with + white lining sort of thing—the waiters had discovered abandoned + outside the dining-room door. Our gold-laced door-keeper recognized it and + I heard him directing one of the lift boys to run after Il Conde with it. + Perhaps he was the only Count staying in the hotel, or perhaps he had the + distinction of being the Count par excellence, conferred upon him because + of his tried fidelity to the house. + </p> + <p> + Having conversed at the Museo—(and by the by he had expressed his + dislike of the busts and statues of Roman emperors in the gallery of + marbles: their faces were too vigorous, too pronounced for him)—having + conversed already in the morning I did not think I was intruding when in + the evening, finding the dining-room very full, I proposed to share his + little table. Judging by the quiet urbanity of his consent he did not + think so either. His smile was very attractive. + </p> + <p> + He dined in an evening waistcoat and a “smoking” (he called it so) with a + black tie. All this of very good cut, not new—just as these things + should be. He was, morning or evening, very correct in his dress. I have + no doubt that his whole existence had been correct, well ordered and + conventional, undisturbed by startling events. His white hair brushed + upwards off a lofty forehead gave him the air of an idealist, of an + imaginative man. His white moustache, heavy but carefully trimmed and + arranged, was not unpleasantly tinted a golden yellow in the middle. The + faint scent of some very good perfume, and of good cigars (that last an + odour quite remarkable to come upon in Italy) reached me across the table. + It was in his eyes that his age showed most. They were a little weary with + creased eyelids. He must have been sixty or a couple of years more. And he + was communicative. I would not go so far as to call it garrulous—but + distinctly communicative. + </p> + <p> + He had tried various climates, of Abbazia, of the Riviera, of other + places, too, he told me, but the only one which suited him was the climate + of the Gulf of Naples. The ancient Romans, who, he pointed out to me, were + men expert in the art of living, knew very well what they were doing when + they built their villas on these shores, in Baiae, in Vico, in Capri. They + came down to this seaside in search of health, bringing with them their + trains of mimes and flute-players to amuse their leisure. He thought it + extremely probable that the Romans of the higher classes were specially + predisposed to painful rheumatic affections. + </p> + <p> + This was the only personal opinion I heard him express. It was based on no + special erudition. He knew no more of the Romans than an average informed + man of the world is expected to know. He argued from personal experience. + He had suffered himself from a painful and dangerous rheumatic affection + till he found relief in this particular spot of Southern Europe. + </p> + <p> + This was three years ago, and ever since he had taken up his quarters on + the shores of the gulf, either in one of the hotels in Sorrento or hiring + a small villa in Capri. He had a piano, a few books: picked up transient + acquaintances of a day, week, or month in the stream of travellers from + all Europe. One can imagine him going out for his walks in the streets and + lanes, becoming known to beggars, shopkeepers, children, country people; + talking amiably over the walls to the contadini—and coming back to + his rooms or his villa to sit before the piano, with his white hair + brushed up and his thick orderly moustache, “to make a little music for + myself.” And, of course, for a change there was Naples near by—life, + movement, animation, opera. A little amusement, as he said, is necessary + for health. Mimes and flute-players, in fact. Only unlike the magnates of + ancient Rome, he had no affairs of the city to call him away from these + moderate delights. He had no affairs at all. Probably he had never had any + grave affairs to attend to in his life. It was a kindly existence, with + its joys and sorrows regulated by the course of Nature—marriages, + births, deaths—ruled by the prescribed usages of good society and + protected by the State. + </p> + <p> + He was a widower; but in the months of July and August he ventured to + cross the Alps for six weeks on a visit to his married daughter. He told + me her name. It was that of a very aristocratic family. She had a castle—in + Bohemia, I think. This is as near as I ever came to ascertaining his + nationality. His own name, strangely enough, he never mentioned. Perhaps + he thought I had seen it on the published list. Truth to say, I never + looked. At any rate, he was a good European—he spoke four languages + to my certain knowledge—and a man of fortune. Not of great fortune + evidently and appropriately. I imagine that to be extremely rich would + have appeared to him improper, outre—too blatant altogether. And + obviously, too, the fortune was not of his making. The making of a fortune + cannot be achieved without some roughness. It is a matter of temperament. + His nature was too kindly for strife. In the course of conversation he + mentioned his estate quite by the way, in reference to that painful and + alarming rheumatic affection. One year, staying incautiously beyond the + Alps as late as the middle of September, he had been laid up for three + months in that lonely country house with no one but his valet and the + caretaking couple to attend to him. Because, as he expressed it, he “kept + no establishment there.” He had only gone for a couple of days to confer + with his land agent. He promised himself never to be so imprudent in the + future. The first weeks of September would find him on the shores of his + beloved gulf. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes in travelling one comes upon such lonely men, whose only + business is to wait for the unavoidable. Deaths and marriages have made a + solitude round them, and one really cannot blame their endeavours to make + the waiting as easy as possible. As he remarked to me, “At my time of life + freedom from physical pain is a very important matter.” + </p> + <p> + It must not be imagined that he was a wearisome hypochondriac. He was + really much too well-bred to be a nuisance. He had an eye for the small + weaknesses of humanity. But it was a good-natured eye. He made a restful, + easy, pleasant companion for the hours between dinner and bedtime. We + spent three evenings together, and then I had to leave Naples in a hurry + to look after a friend who had fallen seriously ill in Taormina. Having + nothing to do, Il Conde came to see me off at the station. I was somewhat + upset, and his idleness was always ready to take a kindly form. He was by + no means an indolent man. + </p> + <p> + He went along the train peering into the carriages for a good seat for me, + and then remained talking cheerily from below. He declared he would miss + me that evening very much and announced his intention of going after + dinner to listen to the band in the public garden, the Villa Nazionale. He + would amuse himself by hearing excellent music and looking at the best + society. There would be a lot of people, as usual. + </p> + <p> + I seem to see him yet—his raised face with a friendly smile under + the thick moustaches, and his kind, fatigued eyes. As the train began to + move, he addressed me in two languages: first in French, saying, “Bon + voyage”; then, in his very good, somewhat emphatic English, encouragingly, + because he could see my concern: “All will—be—well—yet!” + </p> + <p> + My friend’s illness having taken a decidedly favourable turn, I returned + to Naples on the tenth day. I cannot say I had given much thought to Il + Conde during my absence, but entering the dining-room I looked for him in + his habitual place. I had an idea he might have gone back to Sorrento to + his piano and his books and his fishing. He was great friends with all the + boatmen, and fished a good deal with lines from a boat. But I made out his + white head in the crowd of heads, and even from a distance noticed + something unusual in his attitude. Instead of sitting erect, gazing all + round with alert urbanity, he drooped over his plate. I stood opposite him + for some time before he looked up, a little wildly, if such a strong word + can be used in connection with his correct appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear sir! Is it you?” he greeted me. “I hope all is well.” + </p> + <p> + He was very nice about my friend. Indeed, he was always nice, with the + niceness of people whose hearts are genuinely humane. But this time it + cost him an effort. His attempts at general conversation broke down into + dullness. It occurred to me he might have been indisposed. But before I + could frame the inquiry he muttered: + </p> + <p> + “You find me here very sad.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for that,” I said. “You haven’t had bad news, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + It was very kind of me to take an interest. No. It was not that. No bad + news, thank God. And he became very still as if holding his breath. Then, + leaning forward a little, and in an odd tone of awed embarrassment, he + took me into his confidence. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is that I have had a very—a very—how shall I say?—abominable + adventure happen to me.” + </p> + <p> + The energy of the epithet was sufficiently startling in that man of + moderate feelings and toned-down vocabulary. The word unpleasant I should + have thought would have fitted amply the worst experience likely to befall + a man of his stamp. And an adventure, too. Incredible! But it is in human + nature to believe the worst; and I confess I eyed him stealthily, + wondering what he had been up to. In a moment, however, my unworthy + suspicions vanished. There was a fundamental refinement of nature about + the man which made me dismiss all idea of some more or less disreputable + scrape. + </p> + <p> + “It is very serious. Very serious.” He went on, nervously. “I will tell + you after dinner, if you will allow me.” + </p> + <p> + I expressed my perfect acquiescence by a little bow, nothing more. I + wished him to understand that I was not likely to hold him to that offer, + if he thought better of it later on. We talked of indifferent things, but + with a sense of difficulty quite unlike our former easy, gossipy + intercourse. The hand raising a piece of bread to his lips, I noticed, + trembled slightly. This symptom, in regard to my reading of the man, was + no less than startling. + </p> + <p> + In the smoking-room he did not hang back at all. Directly we had taken our + usual seats he leaned sideways over the arm of his chair and looked + straight into my eyes earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “You remember,” he began, “that day you went away? I told you then I would + go to the Villa Nazionale to hear some music in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered. His handsome old face, so fresh for his age, unmarked by any + trying experience, appeared haggard for an instant. It was like the + passing of a shadow. Returning his steadfast gaze, I took a sip of my + black coffee. He was systematically minute in his narrative, simply in + order, I think, not to let his excitement get the better of him. + </p> + <p> + After leaving the railway station, he had an ice, and read the paper in a + cafe. Then he went back to the hotel, dressed for dinner, and dined with a + good appetite. After dinner he lingered in the hall (there were chairs and + tables there) smoking his cigar; talked to the little girl of the Primo + Tenore of the San Carlo theatre, and exchanged a few words with that + “amiable lady,” the wife of the Primo Tenore. There was no performance + that evening, and these people were going to the Villa also. They went out + of the hotel. Very well. + </p> + <p> + At the moment of following their example—it was half-past nine + already—he remembered he had a rather large sum of money in his + pocket-book. He entered, therefore, the office and deposited the greater + part of it with the book-keeper of the hotel. This done, he took a + carozella and drove to the seashore. He got out of the cab and entered the + Villa on foot from the Largo di Vittoria end. + </p> + <p> + He stared at me very hard. And I understood then how really impressionable + he was. Every small fact and event of that evening stood out in his memory + as if endowed with mystic significance. If he did not mention to me the + colour of the pony which drew the carozella, and the aspect of the man who + drove, it was a mere oversight arising from his agitation, which he + repressed manfully. + </p> + <p> + He had then entered the Villa Nazionale from the Largo di Vittoria end. + The Villa Nazionale is a public pleasure-ground laid out in grass plots, + bushes, and flower-beds between the houses of the Riviera di Chiaja and + the waters of the bay. Alleys of trees, more or less parallel, stretch its + whole length—which is considerable. On the Riviera di Chiaja side + the electric tramcars run close to the railings. Between the garden and + the sea is the fashionable drive, a broad road bordered by a low wall, + beyond which the Mediterranean splashes with gentle murmurs when the + weather is fine. + </p> + <p> + As life goes on late at night in Naples, the broad drive was all astir + with a brilliant swarm of carriage lamps moving in pairs, some creeping + slowly, others running rapidly under the thin, motionless line of electric + lamps defining the shore. And a brilliant swarm of stars hung above the + land humming with voices, piled up with houses, glittering with lights—and + over the silent flat shadows of the sea. + </p> + <p> + The gardens themselves are not very well lit. Our friend went forward in + the warm gloom, his eyes fixed upon a distant luminous region extending + nearly across the whole width of the Villa, as if the air had glowed there + with its own cold, bluish, and dazzling light. This magic spot, behind the + black trunks of trees and masses of inky foliage, breathed out sweet + sounds mingled with bursts of brassy roar, sudden clashes of metal, and + grave, vibrating thuds. + </p> + <p> + As he walked on, all these noises combined together into a piece of + elaborate music whose harmonious phrases came persuasively through a great + disorderly murmur of voices and shuffling of feet on the gravel of that + open space. An enormous crowd immersed in the electric light, as if in a + bath of some radiant and tenuous fluid shed upon their heads by luminous + globes, drifted in its hundreds round the band. Hundreds more sat on + chairs in more or less concentric circles, receiving unflinchingly the + great waves of sonority that ebbed out into the darkness. The Count + penetrated the throng, drifted with it in tranquil enjoyment, listening + and looking at the faces. All people of good society: mothers with their + daughters, parents and children, young men and young women all talking, + smiling, nodding to each other. Very many pretty faces, and very many + pretty toilettes. There was, of course, a quantity of diverse types: showy + old fellows with white moustaches, fat men, thin men, officers in uniform; + but what predominated, he told me, was the South Italian type of young + man, with a colourless, clear complexion, red lips, jet-black little + moustache and liquid black eyes so wonderfully effective in leering or + scowling. + </p> + <p> + Withdrawing from the throng, the Count shared a little table in front of + the cafe with a young man of just such a type. Our friend had some + lemonade. The young man was sitting moodily before an empty glass. He + looked up once, and then looked down again. He also tilted his hat + forward. Like this— + </p> + <p> + The Count made the gesture of a man pulling his hat down over his brow, + and went on: + </p> + <p> + “I think to myself: he is sad; something is wrong with him; young men have + their troubles. I take no notice of him, of course. I pay for my lemonade, + and go away.” + </p> + <p> + Strolling about in the neighbourhood of the band, the Count thinks he saw + twice that young man wandering alone in the crowd. Once their eyes met. It + must have been the same young man, but there were so many there of that + type that he could not be certain. Moreover, he was not very much + concerned except in so far that he had been struck by the marked, peevish + discontent of that face. + </p> + <p> + Presently, tired of the feeling of confinement one experiences in a crowd, + the Count edged away from the band. An alley, very sombre by contrast, + presented itself invitingly with its promise of solitude and coolness. He + entered it, walking slowly on till the sound of the orchestra became + distinctly deadened. Then he walked back and turned about once more. He + did this several times before he noticed that there was somebody occupying + one of the benches. + </p> + <p> + The spot being midway between two lamp-posts the light was faint. + </p> + <p> + The man lolled back in the corner of the seat, his legs stretched out, his + arms folded and his head drooping on his breast. He never stirred, as + though he had fallen asleep there, but when the Count passed by next time + he had changed his attitude. He sat leaning forward. His elbows were + propped on his knees, and his hands were rolling a cigarette. He never + looked up from that occupation. + </p> + <p> + The Count continued his stroll away from the band. He returned slowly, he + said. I can imagine him enjoying to the full, but with his usual + tranquillity, the balminess of this southern night and the sounds of music + softened delightfully by the distance. + </p> + <p> + Presently, he approached for the third time the man on the garden seat, + still leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. It was a dejected + pose. In the semi-obscurity of the alley his high shirt collar and his + cuffs made small patches of vivid whiteness. The Count said that he had + noticed him getting up brusquely as if to walk away, but almost before he + was aware of it the man stood before him asking in a low, gentle tone + whether the signore would have the kindness to oblige him with a light. + </p> + <p> + The Count answered this request by a polite “Certainly,” and dropped his + hands with the intention of exploring both pockets of his trousers for the + matches. + </p> + <p> + “I dropped my hands,” he said, “but I never put them in my pockets. I felt + a pressure there—” + </p> + <p> + He put the tip of his finger on a spot close under his breastbone, the + very spot of the human body where a Japanese gentleman begins the + operations of the Harakiri, which is a form of suicide following upon + dishonour, upon an intolerable outrage to the delicacy of one’s feelings. + </p> + <p> + “I glance down,” the Count continued in an awestruck voice, “and what do I + see? A knife! A long knife—” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say,” I exclaimed, amazed, “that you have been held up + like this in the Villa at half-past ten o’clock, within a stone’s throw of + a thousand people!” + </p> + <p> + He nodded several times, staring at me with all his might. + </p> + <p> + “The clarionet,” he declared, solemnly, “was finishing his solo, and I + assure you I could hear every note. Then the band crashed fortissimo, and + that creature rolled its eyes and gnashed its teeth hissing at me with the + greatest ferocity, ‘Be silent! No noise or—‘” + </p> + <p> + I could not get over my astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of knife was it?” I asked, stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “A long blade. A stiletto—perhaps a kitchen knife. A long narrow + blade. It gleamed. And his eyes gleamed. His white teeth, too. I could see + them. He was very ferocious. I thought to myself: ‘If I hit him he will + kill me.’ How could I fight with him? He had the knife and I had nothing. + I am nearly seventy, you know, and that was a young man. I seemed even to + recognize him. The moody young man of the cafe. The young man I met in the + crowd. But I could not tell. There are so many like him in this country.” + </p> + <p> + The distress of that moment was reflected in his face. I should think that + physically he must have been paralyzed by surprise. His thoughts, however, + remained extremely active. They ranged over every alarming possibility. + The idea of setting up a vigorous shouting for help occurred to him, too. + But he did nothing of the kind, and the reason why he refrained gave me a + good opinion of his mental self-possession. He saw in a flash that nothing + prevented the other from shouting, too. + </p> + <p> + “That young man might in an instant have thrown away his knife and + pretended I was the aggressor. Why not? He might have said I attacked him. + Why not? It was one incredible story against another! He might have said + anything—bring some dishonouring charge against me—what do I + know? By his dress he was no common robber. He seemed to belong to the + better classes. What could I say? He was an Italian—I am a + foreigner. Of course, I have my passport, and there is our consul—but + to be arrested, dragged at night to the police office like a criminal!” + </p> + <p> + He shuddered. It was in his character to shrink from scandal, much more + than from mere death. And certainly for many people this would have always + remained—considering certain peculiarities of Neapolitan manners—a + deucedly queer story. The Count was no fool. His belief in the respectable + placidity of life having received this rude shock, he thought that now + anything might happen. But also a notion came into his head that this + young man was perhaps merely an infuriated lunatic. + </p> + <p> + This was for me the first hint of his attitude towards this adventure. In + his exaggerated delicacy of sentiment he felt that nobody’s self-esteem + need be affected by what a madman may choose to do to one. It became + apparent, however, that the Count was to be denied that consolation. He + enlarged upon the abominably savage way in which that young man rolled his + glistening eyes and gnashed his white teeth. The band was going now + through a slow movement of solemn braying by all the trombones, with + deliberately repeated bangs of the big drum. + </p> + <p> + “But what did you do?” I asked, greatly excited. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” answered the Count. “I let my hands hang down very still. I + told him quietly I did not intend making a noise. He snarled like a dog, + then said in an ordinary voice: + </p> + <p> + “‘Vostro portofolio.’” + </p> + <p> + “So I naturally,” continued the Count—and from this point acted the + whole thing in pantomime. Holding me with his eyes, he went through all + the motions of reaching into his inside breast pocket, taking out a + pocket-book, and handing it over. But that young man, still bearing + steadily on the knife, refused to touch it. + </p> + <p> + He directed the Count to take the money out himself, received it into his + left hand, motioned the pocketbook to be returned to the pocket, all this + being done to the sweet thrilling of flutes and clarionets sustained by + the emotional drone of the hautboys. And the “young man,” as the Count + called him, said: “This seems very little.” + </p> + <p> + “It was, indeed, only 340 or 360 lire,” the Count pursued. “I had left my + money in the hotel, as you know. I told him this was all I had on me. He + shook his head impatiently and said: + </p> + <p> + “‘Vostro orologio.’” + </p> + <p> + The Count gave me the dumb show of pulling out his watch, detaching it. + But, as it happened, the valuable gold half-chronometer he possessed had + been left at a watch-maker’s for cleaning. He wore that evening (on a + leather guard) the Waterbury fifty-franc thing he used to take with him on + his fishing expeditions. Perceiving the nature of this booty, the + well-dressed robber made a contemptuous clicking sound with his tongue + like this, “Tse-Ah!” and waved it away hastily. Then, as the Count was + returning the disdained object to his pocket, he demanded with a + threateningly increased pressure of the knife on the epigastrium, by way + of reminder: + </p> + <p> + “‘Vostri anelli.’” + </p> + <p> + “One of the rings,” went on the Count, “was given me many years ago by my + wife; the other is the signet ring of my father. I said, ‘No. That you + shall not have!’” + </p> + <p> + Here the Count reproduced the gesture corresponding to that declaration by + clapping one hand upon the other, and pressing both thus against his + chest. It was touching in its resignation. “That you shall not have,” he + repeated, firmly, and closed his eyes, fully expecting—I don’t know + whether I am right in recording that such an unpleasant word had passed + his lips—fully expecting to feel himself being—I really + hesitate to say—being disembowelled by the push of the long, sharp + blade resting murderously against the pit of his stomach—the very + seat, in all human beings, of anguishing sensations. + </p> + <p> + Great waves of harmony went on flowing from the band. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Count felt the nightmarish pressure removed from the + sensitive spot. He opened his eyes. He was alone. He had heard nothing. It + is probable that “the young man” had departed, with light steps, some time + before, but the sense of the horrid pressure had lingered even after the + knife had gone. A feeling of weakness came over him. He had just time to + stagger to the garden seat. He felt as though he had held his breath for a + long time. He sat all in a heap, panting with the shock of the reaction. + </p> + <p> + The band was executing, with immense bravura, the complicated finale. It + ended with a tremendous crash. He heard it unreal and remote, as if his + ears had been stopped, and then the hard clapping of a thousand, more or + less, pairs of hands, like a sudden hail-shower passing away. The profound + silence which succeeded recalled him to himself. + </p> + <p> + A tramcar resembling a long glass box wherein people sat with their heads + strongly lighted, ran along swiftly within sixty yards of the spot where + he had been robbed. Then another rustled by, and yet another going the + other way. The audience about the band had broken up, and were entering + the alley in small conversing groups. The Count sat up straight and tried + to think calmly of what had happened to him. The vileness of it took his + breath away again. As far as I can make it out he was disgusted with + himself. I do not mean to say with his behaviour. Indeed, if his + pantomimic rendering of it for my information was to be trusted, it was + simply perfect. No, it was not that. He was not ashamed. He was shocked at + being the selected victim, not of robbery so much as of contempt. His + tranquillity had been wantonly desecrated. His lifelong, kindly nicety of + outlook had been defaced. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, at that stage, before the iron had time to sink deep, he was + able to argue himself into comparative equanimity. As his agitation calmed + down somewhat, he became aware that he was frightfully hungry. Yes, + hungry. The sheer emotion had made him simply ravenous. He left the seat + and, after walking for some time, found himself outside the gardens and + before an arrested tramcar, without knowing very well how he came there. + He got in as if in a dream, by a sort of instinct. Fortunately he found in + his trouser pocket a copper to satisfy the conductor. Then the car + stopped, and as everybody was getting out he got out, too. He recognized + the Piazza San Ferdinando, but apparently it did not occur to him to take + a cab and drive to the hotel. He remained in distress on the Piazza like a + lost dog, thinking vaguely of the best way of getting something to eat at + once. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he remembered his twenty-franc piece. He explained to me that he + had that piece of French gold for something like three years. He used to + carry it about with him as a sort of reserve in case of accident. Anybody + is liable to have his pocket picked—a quite different thing from a + brazen and insulting robbery. + </p> + <p> + The monumental arch of the Galleria Umberto faced him at the top of a + noble flight of stairs. He climbed these without loss of time, and + directed his steps towards the Cafe Umberto. All the tables outside were + occupied by a lot of people who were drinking. But as he wanted something + to eat, he went inside into the cafe, which is divided into aisles by + square pillars set all round with long looking-glasses. The Count sat down + on a red plush bench against one of these pillars, waiting for his + risotto. And his mind reverted to his abominable adventure. + </p> + <p> + He thought of the moody, well-dressed young man, with whom he had + exchanged glances in the crowd around the bandstand, and who, he felt + confident, was the robber. Would he recognize him again? Doubtless. But he + did not want ever to see him again. The best thing was to forget this + humiliating episode. + </p> + <p> + The Count looked round anxiously for the coming of his risotto, and, + behold! to the left against the wall—there sat the young man. He was + alone at a table, with a bottle of some sort of wine or syrup and a carafe + of iced water before him. The smooth olive cheeks, the red lips, the + little jet-black moustache turned up gallantly, the fine black eyes a + little heavy and shaded by long eyelashes, that peculiar expression of + cruel discontent to be seen only in the busts of some Roman emperors—it + was he, no doubt at all. But that was a type. The Count looked away + hastily. The young officer over there reading a paper was like that, too. + Same type. Two young men farther away playing draughts also resembled— + </p> + <p> + The Count lowered his head with the fear in his heart of being + everlastingly haunted by the vision of that young man. He began to eat his + risotto. Presently he heard the young man on his left call the waiter in a + bad-tempered tone. + </p> + <p> + At the call, not only his own waiter, but two other idle waiters belonging + to a quite different row of tables, rushed towards him with obsequious + alacrity, which is not the general characteristic of the waiters in the + Cafe Umberto. The young man muttered something and one of the waiters + walking rapidly to the nearest door called out into the Galleria: + “Pasquale! O! Pasquale!” + </p> + <p> + Everybody knows Pasquale, the shabby old fellow who, shuffling between the + tables, offers for sale cigars, cigarettes, picture postcards, and matches + to the clients of the cafe. He is in many respects an engaging scoundrel. + The Count saw the grey-haired, unshaven ruffian enter the cafe, the glass + case hanging from his neck by a leather strap, and, at a word from the + waiter, make his shuffling way with a sudden spurt to the young man’s + table. The young man was in need of a cigar with which Pasquale served him + fawningly. The old pedlar was going out, when the Count, on a sudden + impulse, beckoned to him. + </p> + <p> + Pasquale approached, the smile of deferential recognition combining oddly + with the cynical searching expression of his eyes. Leaning his case on the + table, he lifted the glass lid without a word. The Count took a box of + cigarettes and urged by a fearful curiosity, asked as casually as he could— + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Pasquale, who is that young signore sitting over there?” + </p> + <p> + The other bent over his box confidentially. + </p> + <p> + “That, Signor Conde,” he said, beginning to rearrange his wares busily and + without looking up, “that is a young Cavaliere of a very good family from + Bari. He studies in the University here, and is the chief, capo, of an + association of young men—of very nice young men.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and then, with mingled discretion and pride of knowledge, + murmured the explanatory word “Camorra” and shut down the lid. “A very + powerful Camorra,” he breathed out. “The professors themselves respect it + greatly . . . una lira e cinquanti centesimi, Signor Conde.” + </p> + <p> + Our friend paid with the gold piece. While Pasquale was making up the + change, he observed that the young man, of whom he had heard so much in a + few words, was watching the transaction covertly. After the old vagabond + had withdrawn with a bow, the Count settled with the waiter and sat still. + A numbness, he told me, had come over him. + </p> + <p> + The young man paid, too, got up, and crossed over, apparently for the + purpose of looking at himself in the mirror set in the pillar nearest to + the Count’s seat. He was dressed all in black with a dark green bow tie. + The Count looked round, and was startled by meeting a vicious glance out + of the corners of the other’s eyes. The young Cavaliere from Bari + (according to Pasquale; but Pasquale is, of course, an accomplished liar) + went on arranging his tie, settling his hat before the glass, and meantime + he spoke just loud enough to be heard by the Count. He spoke through his + teeth with the most insulting venom of contempt and gazing straight into + the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! So you had some gold on you—you old liar—you old birba—you + furfante! But you are not done with me yet.” + </p> + <p> + The fiendishness of his expression vanished like lightning, and he lounged + out of the cafe with a moody, impassive face. + </p> + <p> + The poor Count, after telling me this last episode, fell back trembling in + his chair. His forehead broke into perspiration. There was a wanton + insolence in the spirit of this outrage which appalled even me. What it + was to the Count’s delicacy I won’t attempt to guess. I am sure that if he + had been not too refined to do such a blatantly vulgar thing as dying from + apoplexy in a cafe, he would have had a fatal stroke there and then. All + irony apart, my difficulty was to keep him from seeing the full extent of + my commiseration. He shrank from every excessive sentiment, and my + commiseration was practically unbounded. It did not surprise me to hear + that he had been in bed a week. He had got up to make his arrangements for + leaving Southern Italy for good and all. + </p> + <p> + And the man was convinced that he could not live through a whole year in + any other climate! + </p> + <p> + No argument of mine had any effect. It was not timidity, though he did say + to me once: “You do not know what a Camorra is, my dear sir. I am a marked + man.” He was not afraid of what could be done to him. His delicate + conception of his dignity was defiled by a degrading experience. He + couldn’t stand that. No Japanese gentleman, outraged in his exaggerated + sense of honour, could have gone about his preparations for Hara-kiri with + greater resolution. To go home really amounted to suicide for the poor + Count. + </p> + <p> + There is a saying of Neapolitan patriotism, intended for the information + of foreigners, I presume: “See Naples and then die.” Vedi Napoli e poi + mori. It is a saying of excessive vanity, and everything excessive was + abhorrent to the nice moderation of the poor Count. Yet, as I was seeing + him off at the railway station, I thought he was behaving with singular + fidelity to its conceited spirit. Vedi Napoli! . . . He had seen it! He + had seen it with startling thoroughness—and now he was going to his + grave. He was going to it by the train de luxe of the International + Sleeping Car Company, via Trieste and Vienna. As the four long, sombre + coaches pulled out of the station I raised my hat with the solemn feeling + of paying the last tribute of respect to a funeral cortege. Il Conde’s + profile, much aged already, glided away from me in stony immobility, + behind the lighted pane of glass—Vedi Napoli e poi mori! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Set of Six, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SET OF SIX *** + +***** This file should be named 2305-h.htm or 2305-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/2305/ + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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