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Kitabı oku: «The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Volume 6», sayfa 3

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Major Brown heard the proposal in silence, and at last determined upon consulting his brother officers.

"I have outstaid my time," said O'Flaherty, "but stop; the lives of so many are at stake, I consent." Saying which, they walked on without speaking, till they arrived where the others were standing around the watch-fire.

As Brown retired to consult with the officers, Tom heard with pleasure how much his two companions had worked upon the Yankees' fears, during his absence, by details of the vindictive feelings of the Delawares, and their vows to annihilate the Buffalo militia.

Before five minutes they had decided. Upon a solemn pledge from O'Flaherty that the terms of the compact were to be observed as he stated them, they agreed to march with their arms to the ford, where, having piled them, they were to cross over, and make the best of their way home.

By sunrise the next morning, all that remained of the threatened attack on Fort Peak, were the smouldering ashes of some wood fires — eighty muskets piled in the fort — and the yellow ochre, and red stripes that still adorned the countenance of the late Indian chief, — but now snoring Lieutenant Maurice Malone.

CHAPTER XLVII.
THE COURIER'S PASSPORT

A second night succeeded the long dreary day of the diligence, and the only one agreeable reflection arose in the feeling that every mile travelled, was diminishing the chance of pursuit, and removing me still further from that scene of trouble and annoyance that was soon to furnish gossip for Paris — under the title of "The Affaire O'Leary."

How he was ever to extricate himself from the numerous and embarrassing difficulties of his position, gave me, I confess, less uneasiness than the uncertainty of my own fortunes. Luck seemed ever to befriend him — me it had always accompanied far enough through life to make its subsequent desertion more painful. How far I should blame myself for this, I stopped not to consider; but brooded over the fact in a melancholy and discontented mood. The one thought uppermost in my mind was, how will Lady Jane receive me — am I forgotten — or am I only remembered as the subject of that unlucky mistake, when, under the guise of an elder son, I was feted and made much of. What pretensions I had, without fortune, rank, influence, or even expectations of any kind, to seek the hand of the most beautiful girl of the day, with the largest fortune as her dowry, I dare not ask myself — the reply would have dashed all my hopes, and my pursuit would have at once been abandoned. "Tell the people you are an excellent preacher," was the advice of an old and learned divine to a younger and less experienced one — "tell them so every morning, and every noon, and every evening, and at last they will begin to believe it." So thought I. I shall impress upon the Callonbys that I am a most unexceptionable "parti." Upon every occasion they shall hear it — as they open their newspapers at breakfast — as they sip their soup at luncheon — as they adjust their napkin at dinner — as they chat over their wine at night. My influence in the house shall be unbounded — my pleasures consulted — my dislikes remembered. The people in favour with me shall dine there three times a-week — those less fortunate shall be put into schedule A. My opinions on all subjects shall be a law — whether I pronounce upon politics, or discuss a dinner: and all this I shall accomplish by a successful flattery of my lady — a little bullying of my lord — a devoted attention to the youngest sister — a special cultivation of Kilkee — and a very "prononce" neglect of Lady Jane. These were my half-waking thoughts, as the heavy diligence rumbled over the pave into Nancy; and I was aroused by the door being suddenly jerked open, and a bronzed face, with a black beard and moustache, being thrust in amongst us.

"Your passports, Messieurs," as a lantern was held up in succession across our faces, and we handed forth our crumpled and worn papers to the official.

The night was stormy and dark — gusts of wind sweeping along, bearing with them the tail of some thunder cloud — mingling their sounds with a falling tile from the roofs, or a broken chimney-pot. The officer in vain endeavoured to hold open the passports while he inscribed his name; and just as the last scrawl was completed, the lantern went out. Muttering a heavy curse upon the weather, he thrust them in upon us en masse, and, banging the door to, called out to the conducteur, "en route."

Again we rumbled on, and, ere we cleared the last lamps of the town, the whole party were once more sunk in sleep, save myself. Hour after hour rolled by, the rain pattering upon the roof, and the heavy plash of the horses' feet contributing their mournful sounds to the melancholy that was stealing over me. At length we drew up at the door of a little auberge; and, by the noise and bustle without, I perceived there was a change of horses. Anxious to stretch my legs, and relieve, if even for a moment, the wearisome monotony of the night, I got out and strode into the little parlour of the inn. There was a cheerful fire in an open stove, beside which stood a portly figure in a sheepskin bunta and a cloth travelling cap, with a gold band; his legs were cased in high Russia leather boots, all evident signs of the profession of the wearer, had even his haste at supper not bespoke the fact that he was a government courier.

"You had better make haste with the horses, Antoine, if you don't wish the postmaster to hear of it," said he, as I entered, his mouth filled with pie crust and vin de Beaune, as he spoke.

A lumbering peasant, with a blouse, sabots, and a striped nightcap, replied in some unknown patois; when the courier again said —

"Well, then, take the diligence horses; I must get on at all events; they are not so presse, I'll be bound; besides it will save the gens-d'armes some miles of a ride if they overtake them here."

"Have we another vise of our passports here, then?" said I, addressing the courier, "for we have already been examined at Nancy?"

"Not exactly a vise," said the courier, eyeing me most suspiciously as he spoke, and then continuing to eat with his former voracity.

"Then, what, may I ask, have we to do with the gens-d'armes?"

"It is a search," said the courier, gruffly, and with the air of one who desired no further questioning.

I immediately ordered a bottle of Burgundy, and filling the large goblet before him, said, with much respect,

"A votre bonne voyage, Monsier le Courier."

To this he at once replied, by taking off his cap and bowing politely as he drank off the wine.

"Have we any runaway felon or a stray galerien among us?" said I, laughingly, "that they are going to search us?"

"No, monsieur," said the courier; "but there has been a government order to arrest a person on this road connected with the dreadful Polish plot, that has just eclated at Paris. I passed a vidette of cavalry at Nancy, and they will be up here in half an hour."

"A Polish plot! Why, I left Paris only two days ago, and never heard of it."

"C'est bien possible, Monsieur? Perhaps, after all, it may only be an affair of the police; but they have certainly arrested one prisoner at Meurice, charged with this, as well as the attempt to rob Frascati, and murder the croupier."

"Alas," said I, with a half-suppressed groan, "it is too true; that infernal fellow O'Leary has ruined me, and I shall be brought back to Paris, and only taken from prison to meet the open shame and ignominy of a public trial."

What was to be done? — every moment was precious. I walked to the door to conceal my agitation. All was dark and gloomy. The thought of escape was my only one; but how to accomplish it! Every stir without suggested to my anxious mind the approaching tread of horses — every rattle of the harness seemed like the clink of accoutrements.

While I yet hesitated, I felt that my fate was in the balance. Concealment where I was, was impossible; there were no means of obtaining horses to proceed. My last only hope then rested in the courier; he perhaps might be bribed to assist me at this juncture. Still his impression as to the enormity of the crime imputed, might deter him; and there was no time for explanation, if even he would listen to it. I returned to the room; he had finished his meal, and was now engaged in all the preparations for encountering a wet and dreary night. I hesitated; my fears that if he should refuse my offers, all chance of my escape was gone, deterred me for a moment. At length as he wound a large woollen shawl around his throat, and seemed to have completed his costume, I summoned nerve for the effort, and with as much boldness in my manner as I could muster, said —

"Monsieur le Courier, one word with you." I here closed the door, and continued. "My fortunes — my whole prospects in life depend upon my reaching Strasbourg by to-morrow night. You alone can be the means of my doing so. Is there any price you can mention, for which you will render me this service? — if so, name it."

"So then, Monsieur," said the Courier, slowly — "so, then, you are the — "

"You have guessed it," said I, interrupting. "Do you accept my proposal?"

"It is impossible," said he, "utterly impossible; for even should I be disposed to run the risk on my own account, it would avail you nothing; the first town we entered your passport would be demanded, and not being vised by the minister to travel en courier, you would at once be detained and arrested."

"Then am I lost," said I, throwing myself upon a chair; at the same instant my passport, which I carried in my breast pocket, fell out at the feet of the courier. He lifted it and opened it leisurely. So engrossed was I by my misfortunes, that for some minutes I did not perceive, that as he continued to read the passport, he smiled from time to time, till at length a hearty fit of laughing awoke me from my abstraction. My first impulse was to seize him by the throat; controlling my temper, however, with an effort, I said —

"And pray, Monsieur, may I ask in what manner the position I stand in at this moment affords you so much amusement? Is there any thing so particularly droll — any thing so excessively ludicrous in my situation — or what particular gift do you possess that shall prevent me throwing you out of the window?"

"Mais, Monsieur," said he, half stifled with laughter, "do you know the blunder I fell into? it is really too good. Could you only guess who I took you for, you would laugh too."

Here he became so overcome with merriment, that he was obliged to sit down, which he did opposite to me, and actually shook with laughter.

"When this comedy is over," thought I, "we may begin to understand each other." Seeing no prospect of this, I became at length impatient, and jumping on my legs, said —

"Enough, sir, quite enough of this foolery. Believe me, you have every reason to be thankful that my present embarrassment should so far engross me, that I cannot afford time to give you a thrashing."

"Pardon, mille pardons," said he humbly; "but you will, I am sure, forgive me when I tell you that I was stupid enough to mistake you for the fugitive Englishman, whom the gens-d'armes are in pursuit of. How good, eh?"

"Oh! devilish good — but what do you mean?"

"Why, the fellow that caused the attack at Frascati, and all that, and — "

"Yes — well, eh? Did you think I was him?"

"To be sure I did, till I saw your passport."

"Till you saw my passport!" Why, what on earth can he mean? thought I. "No, but," said I, half jestingly, "how could you make such a blunder?"

"Why, your confused manner — your impatience to get on — your hurried questions, all convinced me. In fact, I'd have wagered any thing you were the Englishman."

"And what, in heaven's name, does he think me now?" thought I, as I endeavoured to join the laugh so ludicrous a mistake occasioned.

"But we are delaying sadly," said the courier. "Are you ready?"

"Ready? — ready for what?"

"To go on with me, of course. Don't you wish to get early to Strasbourg?"

"To be sure I do."

"Well, then, come along. But, pray, don't mind your luggage, for my caleche is loaded. Your instruments can come in the diligence."

"My instruments in the diligence! He's mad — that's flat."

"How they will laugh at Strasbourg at my mistake."

"That they will," thought I. "The only doubt is, will you join in the merriment?"

So saying, I followed the courier to the door, jumped into his caleche, and in another moment was hurrying over the pave at a pace that defied pursuit, and promised soon to make up for all our late delay. Scarcely was the fur-lined apron of the caleche buttoned around me, and the German blinds let down, when I set to work to think over the circumstance that had just befallen me. As I had never examined my passport from the moment Trevanion handed it to me in Paris, I knew nothing of its contents; therefore, as to what impression it might convey of me, I was totally ignorant. To ask the courier for it now might excite suspicion; so that I was totally at sea how to account for his sudden change in my favour, or in what precise capacity I was travelling beside him. Once, and once only, the thought of treachery occurred to me. Is he about to hand me over to the gens-d'armes? and are we now only retracing our steps towards Nancy? If so, Monsieur le Courier, whatever be my fate, your's is certainly an unenviable one. My reflections on this head were soon broken in upon, for my companion again returned to the subject of his "singular error," and assured me that he was as near as possible leaving me behind, under the mistaken impression of my being "myself;" and informed me that all Strasbourg would be delighted to see me, which latter piece of news was only the more flattering, that I knew no one there, nor had ever been in that city in my life; and after about an hour's mystification as to my tastes, habits, and pursuits, he fell fast asleep, leaving me to solve the difficult problem as to whether I was not somebody else, or the only alternative — whether travelling en courier might not be prescribed by physicians as a mode of treating insane patients.

CHAPTER XLVIII.
A NIGHT IN STRASBOURG

With the dawn of day my miseries recommenced; for after letting down the sash, and venting some very fervent imprecations upon the postillion for not going faster than his horses were able, the courier once more recurred to his last night's blunder, and proceeded very leisurely to catechise me as to my probable stay at Strasbourg, when I should go from there, As I was still in doubt what or whom he took me for, I answered with the greatest circumspection — watching, the while, for any clue that might lead me to a discovery of myself. Thus, occasionally evading all pushing and home queries, and sometimes, when hard pressed, feigning drowsiness, I passed the long and anxious day — the fear of being overtaken ever mingling with the thoughts that some unlucky admission of mine might discover my real character to the courier, who, at any post station, might hand me over to the authorities. Could I only guess at the part I am performing, thought I, and I might manage to keep up the illusion; but my attention was so entirely engrossed by fencing off all his threats, that I could find out nothing. At last, as night drew near, the thought that we were approaching Strasbourg rallied my spirits, suggesting an escape from all pursuit, as well as the welcome prospect of getting rid of my present torturer, who, whenever I awoke from a doze, reverted to our singular meeting with a pertinacity that absolutely seemed like malice.

"As I am aware that this is your first visit to Strasbourg," said the courier, "perhaps I can be of service to you in recommending a hotel. Put up, I advise you, at the 'Bear' — a capital hotel, and not ten minutes' distance from the theatre."

I thanked him for the counsel; and, rejoicing in the fact that my prototype, whoever he might be, was unknown in the city, began to feel some little hope of getting through this scrape, as I had done so many others.

"They have been keeping the 'Huguenots' for your arrival, and all Strasbourg is impatient for your coming."

"Indeed!" said I, mumbling something meant to be modest. "Who the devil am I, then, to cause all this fracas? Heaven grant, not the new 'prefect,' or the commander of the forces."

"I am told the 'Zauberflotte' is your favourite opera?"

"I can't say that I ever heard it — that is, I mean that I could say — well got up."

Here I floundered on having so far forgot myself as to endanger every thing.

"How very unfortunate! Well, I hope you will not long have as much to say. Meanwhile, here we are — this is the 'Bear.'"

We rattled into the ample porte cochere of a vast hotel — the postillion cracking his enormous whip, and bells ringing on every side, as if the crown prince of Russia had been the arrival, and not a poor sub. in the __th.

The courier jumped out, and running up to the landlord, whispered a few words in his ear, to which the other answered by a deep "ah, vraiment!" and then saluted me with an obsequiousness that made my flesh quake.

"I shall make 'mes hommages' in the morning," said the courier, as he drove off at full speed to deliver his despatches, and left me to my own devices to perform a character, without even being able to guess what it might be. My passport, too, the only thing that could throw any light upon the affair, he had taken along with him, promising to have it vised, and save me any trouble.

Of all my difficulties and puzzling situations in life, this was certainly the worst; for however often my lot had been to personate another, yet hitherto I had had the good fortune to be aware of what and whom I was performing. Now I might be any body from Marshal Soult to Monsieur Scribe; one thing only was certain, I must be a "celebrity." The confounded pains and trouble they were taking to receive me, attested that fact, and left me to the pleasing reflection that my detection, should it take place, would be sure of attracting a very general publicity. Having ordered my supper from the landlord, with a certain air of reserve, sufficient to prevent even an Alsace host from obtruding any questions upon me, I took my opportunity to stroll from the inn down to the river side. There lay the broad, rapid Rhine, separating me, by how narrow a gulph, from that land, where, if I once arrived, my safety was certain. Never did that great boundary of nations strike me so forcibly, as now when my own petty interests and fortunes were at stake. Night was fast settling upon the low flat banks of the stream, and nothing stirred, save the ceaseless ripple of the river. One fishing barque alone was on the water. I hailed the solitary tenant of it, and after some little parley, induced him to ferry me over. This, however, could only be done when the night was farther advanced — it being against the law to cross the river except at certain hours, and between two established points, where officers of the revenue were stationed. The fisherman was easily bribed, however, to evade the regulation, and only bargained that I should meet him on the bank before daybreak. Having settled this point to my satisfaction, I returned to my hotel in better spirits; and with a Strasbourg pate, and a flask of Nierensteiner, drank to my speedy deliverance.

How to consume the long, dreary hours between this time and that of my departure, I knew not; for though greatly fatigued, I felt that sleep was impossible; the usual resource of a gossip with the host was equally out of the question; and all that remained was the theatre, which I happily remembered was not far from the hotel.

It was an opera night, and the house was crowded to excess; but with some little management, I obtained a place in a box near the stage. The piece was "Les Franc Macons," which was certainly admirably supported, and drew down from the audience — no mean one as judges of music — the loudest thunders of applause. As for me, the house was a great a curiosity as the opera. The novel spectacle of some hundred (thousand?) people relishing and appreciating the highest order of musical genius, was something totally new and surprising to me. The curtain at length fell upon the fifth act.

And now the deafening roar of acclamation was tremendous; and amid a perfect shout of enthusiasm, the manager announced the opera for the ensuing evening. Scarcely had this subsided, when a buzz ran through the house; at first subdued, but gradually getting louder — extending from the boxes to the balcone — from the balcone to the parterre — and finally even to the galleries. Groups of people stood upon the benches, and looked fixedly in one part of the house; then changed and regarded as eagerly the other.

What can this mean? thought I. Is the theatre on fire? Something surely has gone wrong!

In this conviction, with the contagious spirit of curiosity, I mounted upon a seat, and looked about me on every side; but unable still to catch the object which seemed to attract the rest, as I was about to resume my place, my eyes fell upon a well-known face, which in an instant I remembered was that of my late fellow-traveller the courier. Anxious to avoid his recognition, I attempted to get down at once; but before I could accomplish it, the wretch had perceived and recognised me; and I saw him, even with a gesture of delight, point me out to some friends beside him.

"Confound the fellow," muttered I; "I must leave this at once, or I shall be involved in some trouble."

Scarcely was my my resolve taken, when a new burst of voices arose from the pit — the words "l'Auteur," "l'Auteur," mingling with loud cries for "Meerberger," "Meerberger," to appear. So, thought I, it seems the great composer is here. Oh, by Jove! I must have a peep at him before I go. So, leaning over the front rail of the box, I looked anxiously about to catch one hasty glimpse of one of the great men of his day and country. What was my surprise, however, to perceive that about two thousand eyes were firmly rivetted upon the box I was seated in; while about half the number of tongues called out unceasingly, "Mr. Meerberger — vive Meerberger — vive l'Auteur des Franc Macons — vive Franc Macons," Before I could turn to look for the hero of the scene, my legs were taken from under me, and I felt myself lifted by several strong men and held out in front of the box, while the whole audience, rising en masse, saluted me — yes, me, Harry Lorrequer — with a cheer that shook the building. Fearful of precipitating myself into the pit beneath, if I made the least effort, and half wild with terror and amazement, I stared about like a maniac, while a beautiful young woman tripped along the edge of the box, supported by her companion's hand, and placed lightly upon my brow a chaplet of roses and laurel. Here the applause was like an earthquake.

"May the devil fly away with half of ye," was my grateful response, to as full a cheer of applause as ever the walls of the house re-echoed to.

"On the stage — on the stage!" shouted that portion of the audience who, occupying the same side of the house as myself, preferred having a better view of me; and to the stage I was accordingly hurried, down a narrow stair, through a side scene, and over half the corps de ballet who were waiting for their entree. Kicking, plunging, buffetting like a madman, they carried me to the "flats," when the manager led me forward to the foot lights, my wreath of flowers contrasting rather ruefully with my bruised cheeks and torn habiliments. Human beings, God be praised, are only capable of certain efforts — so that one-half the audience were coughing their sides out, while the other were hoarse as bull-frogs from their enthusiasm in less than five minutes.

"You'll have what my friend Rooney calls a chronic bronchitis for this, these three weeks," said I, "that's one comfort," as I bowed my way back to the "practicable" door, through which I made my exit, with the thousand faces of the parterre shouting my name, or, as fancy dictated, that of one of "my" operas. I retreated behind the scenes, to encounter very nearly as much, and at closer quarters, too, as that lately sustained before the audience. After an embrace of two minutes duration from the manager, I ran the gauntlet from the prima donna to the last triangle of the orchestra, who cut away a back button of my coat as a "souvenir." During all this, I must confess, very little acting was needed on my part. They were so perfectly contented with their self-deception, that if I had made an affidavit before the mayor — if there be such a functionary in such an insane town — they would not have believed me. Wearied and exhausted at length, by all I had gone through, I sat down upon a bench, and, affecting to be overcome by my feelings, concealed my face in my handkerchief. This was the first moment of relief I experienced since my arrival; but it was not to last long, for the manager, putting down his head close to my ear, whispered —

"Monsieur Meerberger, I have a surprise for you — such as you have not had for some time, I venture to say" —

"I defy you on this head," thought I. "If they make me out king Solomon now, it will not amaze me" —

"And when I tell you my secret," continued he, "you will acknowledge I cannot be of a very jealous disposition. Madame Baptiste has just told me she knew you formerly, and that — she — that is, you — were — in fact, you understand — there had been — so to say — a little 'amourette' between you."

I groaned in spirit as I thought, now am I lost without a chance of escape — the devil take her reminiscences.

"I see," continued le bon mari, "you cannot guess of whom I speak; but when I tell you of Amelie Grandet, your memory will, perhaps, be better."

"Amelie Grandet!" said I, with a stage start. I need not say that I had never heard the name before. "Amelie Grandet here!"

"Yes, that she is," said the manager, rubbing his hands; "and my wife, too" —

"Married! — Amelie Grandet married! No, no; it is impossible — I cannot believe it. But were it true — true, mark me — for worlds would I not meet her."

"Comment il est drole," said the manager, soliloquising aloud; "for my wife takes it much easier, seeing they never met each other since they were fifteen."

"Ho, ho!" thought I, "the affair is not so bad either — time makes great changes in that space." "And does she still remember me?" said I, in a very Romeo-in-the-garden voice.

"Why, so far as remembering the little boy that used to play with her in the orchard at her mother's cottage near Pirna, and with whom she used to go boating upon the Elbe, I believe the recollection is perfect. But come along — she insists upon seeing you, and is this very moment waiting supper in our room for you."

"A thorough German she must be," thought I, "with her sympathies and her supper — her reminiscences and her Rhine wine hunting in couples through her brain."

Summoning courage from the fact of our long absence from each other, I followed the manager through a wilderness of pavilions, forests, clouds and cataracts, and at length arrived at a little door, at which he knocked gently.

"Come in," said a soft voice inside. We opened, and beheld a very beautiful young woman, in Tyrolese costume. She was to perform in the afterpiece — her low boddice and short scarlet petticoat displaying the most perfect symmetry of form and roundness of proportion. She was dressing her hair before a low glass as we came in, and scarcely turned at our approach; but in an instant, as if some sudden thought had struck her, she sprung fully round, and looking at me fixedly for above a minute — a very trying one for me — she glanced at her husband, whose countenance plainly indicated that she was right, and calling out, "C'est lui — c'est bien lui," threw herself into my arms, and sobbed convulsively.

"If this were to be the only fruits of my impersonation," thought I, "it is not so bad — but I am greatly afraid these good people will find out a wife and seven babies for me before morning."

Whether the manager thought that enough had been done for stage effect, I know not; but he gently disengaged the lovely Amelie, and deposited her upon a sofa, to a place upon which she speedily motioned me by a look from a pair of very seducing blue eyes.

"Francois, mon cher, you must put off La Chaumiere. I can't play to-night."

"Put it off! But only think of the audience, ma mie — they will pull down the house."

"C'est possible," said she, carelessly. "If that give them any pleasure, I suppose they must be indulged; but I, too, must have a little of my own way. I shall not play."

The tone this was said in — the look — the easy gesture of command — no less than the afflicted helplessness of the luckless husband, showed me that Amelie, however docile as a sweetheart, had certainly her own way as wife.

While Le cher Francois then retired, to make his proposition to the audience, of substituting something for the Chaumiere — the "sudden illness of Madame Baptiste having prevented her appearance," — we began to renew our old acquaintance, by a thousand inquiries from that long-past time, when we were sweethearts and lovers.

"You remember me then so well?" said I.

Yaş sınırı:
12+
Litres'teki yayın tarihi:
28 eylül 2017
Hacim:
130 s. 1 illüstrasyon
Telif hakkı:
Public Domain

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