Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ instant the colonel bounded across the chamber, and striking me a severe blow upon the arm, dashed the weapon from my hand to the ground.

      ‘You want the fusillade – is that what you want?’ cried he, as, in a towering fit of passion, he dragged me forward to the light. I was now standing close to the table; the lady raised her eyes towards me, and at once broke out into a burst of laughter – such hearty, merry laughter, that, even with the fear of death before me, I could almost have joined in it.

      ‘What is it – what do you mean, Laure?’ cried the colonel angrily.

      ‘Don’t you see it?’ said she, still holding her kerchief to her face – ‘can’t you perceive it yourself? He has only one moustache!’

      I turned hastily towards the mirror beside me, and there was the fatal fact revealed – one gallant curl disported proudly over the left cheek, while the other was left bare.

      ‘Is the fellow mad – a mountebank?’ said the colonel, whose anger was now at its white heat.

      ‘Neither, sir,’ said I, tearing off my remaining moustache, in shame and passion together. ‘Among my other misfortunes I have that of being young; and what’s worse, I was ashamed of it; but I begin to see my error, and know that a man may be old without gaining either in dignity or temper.’

      With a stroke of his closed fist upon the table, the colonel made every glass and decanter spring from their places, while he uttered an oath that was only current in the days of that army. ‘This is beyond belief,’ cried he. ‘Come, gredin, you have at least had one piece of good fortune: you’ve fallen precisely into the hands of one who can deal with you. – Your regiment?’

      ‘The Ninth Hussars.’

      ‘Your name?’

      ‘Tiernay.’

      ‘Tiernay; that’s not a French name?’

      ‘Not originally; we were Irish once.’

      ‘Irish,’ said he, in a different tone from what he had hitherto used. ‘Any relative of a certain Comte Maurice de Tiernay, who once served in the Royal Guard?’

      ‘His son, sir.’

      ‘What – his son! Art certain of this, lad? You remember your mother’s name then – what was it?’

      ‘I never knew which was my mother,’ said I. ‘Mademoiselle de la Lasterie or – ’

      He did not suffer me to finish, but throwing his arms around my neck, pressed me to his bosom.

      ‘You are little Maurice, then,’ said he, ‘the son of my old and valued comrade! Only think of it, Laure – I was that boy’s godfather.’

      Here was a sudden change in my fortunes; nor was it without a great effort that I could credit the reality of it, as I saw myself seated between the colonel and his fair companion, both of whom overwhelmed me with attention.

      It turned out that Colonel Mahon had been a fellow-guardsman with my father, for whom he had ever preserved the warmest attachment. One of the few survivors of the Garde du Corps, he had taken service with the Republic, and was already reputed as one of the most distinguished cavalry officers.

      ‘Strange enough, Maurice,’ said he to me, ‘there was something in your look and manner, as you spoke to me there, that recalled your poor father to my memory; and without knowing or suspecting why, I suffered you to bandy words with me, while at another moment I would have ordered you to be ironed and sent to prison.’

      Of my mother, of whom I wished much to learn something, he would not speak, but adroitly changed the conversation to the subject of my own adventures, and these he made me recount from the beginning. If the lady enjoyed all the absurdities of my chequered fortune with a keen sense of the ridiculous, the colonel apparently could trace in them but so many resemblances to my father’s character, and constantly broke out into exclamations of ‘How like him!’ ‘Just what he would have done himself!’ ‘His own very words! ‘and so on.

      It was only in a pause of the conversation, as the clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven, that I was aware of the lateness of the hour, and remembered that I should be on the punishment-roll the next morning for absence from quarters.

      ‘Never fret about that, Maurice – I ‘ll return your name as on a special service; and to have the benefit of truth on our side, you shall be named one of my orderlies, with the grade of corporal.’

      ‘Why not make him a sous-lieutenant?’ said the lady, in a half-whisper. ‘I’m sure he is better worth his epaulettes than any I have seen on your staff.’

      ‘Nay, nay,’ muttered the colonel, ‘the rules of the service forbid it. He’ll win his spurs time enough, or I ‘m much mistaken.’

      While I thanked my new and kind patron for his goodness, I could not help saying that my heart was eagerly set upon the prospect of actual service; and that proud as I should be of his protection, I would rather merit it by my conduct than owe my advancement to favour.

      ‘Which simply means that you are tired of Nancy, and riding drill, and want to see how men comport themselves where the manoeuvres are not arranged beforehand. Well, so far you are right, boy. I shall, in all likelihood, be stationed here for three or four months, during which you might have advanced a stage or so towards those epaulettes my fair friend desires to see upon your shoulders. You shall, therefore, be sent forward to your own corps. I’ll write to the colonel to confirm the rank of corporal; the regiment is at present on the Moselle, and, if I mistake not, will soon be actively employed Come to me to-morrow before noon, and be prepared to march with the first detachments that are sent forward.’

      A cordial shake of the hand followed these words; and the lady having also vouchsafed me an equal token of her good-will, I took my leave, the happiest fellow that ever betook himself to quarters after hours, and as indifferent to the penalties annexed to the breach of discipline as if the whole code of martial law were a mere fable.

      CHAPTER X. AN ARISTOCRATIC REPUBLICAN

      If the worthy reader would wish to fancy the happiest of all youthful beings, let him imagine what I must have been, as, mounted upon Aleppo, a present from my godfather, with a purse of six shining louis in my pocket, and a letter to my colonel, I set forth for Metz. I had breakfasted with Colonel Mahon, who, amid much good advice for my future guidance, gave me, half slyly, to understand that the days of Jacobinism had almost run their course, and that a reactionary movement had already set in. The Republic, he added, was as strong, perhaps stronger, than ever, but that men had grown weary of mob tyranny, and were, day by day, reverting to the old loyalty, in respect for whatever pretended to culture, good-breeding, and superior intelligence. ‘As, in a shipwreck, the crew instinctively turn for counsel and direction to the officers, you will see that France will, notwithstanding all the libertinism of our age, place her confidence in the men who have been the tried and worthy servants of former governments. So far, then, from suffering on account of your gentle blood, Maurice, the time is not distant when it will do you good service, and when every association that links you with family and fortune will be deemed an additional guarantee of your good conduct. I mention these things,’ continued he, ‘because your colonel is what they call a “Grosbleu “ – that is, a coarse-minded, inveterate republican, detesting aristocracy and all that belongs to it. Take care, therefore, to give him no just cause for discontent, but be just as steady in maintaining your position as the descendant of a noble house, who has not forgotten what were once the privileges of his rank. Write to me frequently and СКАЧАТЬ