Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume I. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ moment, and I saw that the face was blackened.

      “Who’s that?” I called aloud, as with my finger I directed De Meudon to the spot. No answer was returned, and I repeated my question yet louder; but still no reply, while I could mark that the head was turned slightly round, as if to speak with some one without. The noise of feet, and the low murmur of several voices, now came from the side of the ruin; at the same instant a dozen men, their faces blackened, and wearing a white badge on their hats, stood up as if out of the very ground around us.

      “What are you doing here at this time of night?” said a hard voice, in tones that boded but little kindliness.

      “We are as free to walk the country, when we like it, as you are, I hope,” was my answer.

      “I know his voice well,” said another of the crowd; “I told you it was them.”

      “Is it you that stop at Wild’s, in the glen?” said the first speaker.

      “Yes,” replied I.

      “And is it to get share of what ‘s going, that ye ‘re come to join us now?” repeated he, in a tone of mockery.

      “Be easy, Lanty; ‘tis the French officer that behaved so stout up at Ross. It ‘s little he cares for money, as myself knows. I saw him throw a handful of goold among the boys when they stopped to pillage, and bid them do their work first, and that he ‘d give them plenty after.”

      “Maybe he ‘d do the same now,” said a voice from the crowd, in a tone of irony; and the words were received by the rest with a roar of laughter.

      “Stop laughing,” said the first speaker, in a voice of command; “we’ve small time for joking.” As he spoke he threw himself heavily on the bank beside De Meudon, and placing his hand familiarly on his arm, said, in a low but clear voice: “The boys is come up here to-night to draw lots for three men to settle Barton, that ‘s come down here yesterday, and stopping at the barrack there. We knew you war n’t well lately, and we did n’t trouble you; but now that you ‘re come up of yourself among us, it ‘s only fair and reasonable you ‘d take your chance with the rest, and draw your lot with the others.”

      “Arrah, he ‘s too weak; the man is dying,” said a voice near.

      “And if he is,” said the other, “who wants his help? sure, is n’t it to keep him quiet, and not bethray us?”

      “The devil a fear of that,” said the former speaker; “he’s thrue to the backbone; I know them that knows him well.”

      By this time De Meudon had risen to his feet, and stood leaning upon a tall headstone beside him; his foraging cap fell off in his effort to stand, and his long thin hair floated in masses down his pale cheeks and on his shoulders. The moon was full upon him; and what a contrast did his noble features present to the ruffian band that sat and stood around him!

      “And is it a scheme of murder, of cold, cowardly assasination, you have dared to propose to me?” said he, darting a look of fiery indignation on him who seemed the leader. “Is it thus you understand my presence in your country and in your cause? Think ye it was for this that I left the glorious army of France, – that I quitted the field of honorable war to mix with such as you? Ay, if it were the last word I were to speak on earth, I ‘d denounce you, wretches that stain with blood and massacre the sacred cause the best and boldest bleed for!”

      The click of a trigger sounded harshly on my ear, and my blood ran cold with horror. De Meudon heard it too, and continued, – “You do but cheat me of an hour or two, and I am ready.”

      He paused, as if waiting for the shot. A deadly silence followed; it lasted for some minutes, when again he spoke, – “I came here to-night not knowing of your intentions, not expecting you; I came here to choose a grave, where, before another week pass over, I hoped to rest. If you will it sooner, I shall not gainsay you.”

      Low murmurs ran through the crowd, and something like a tone of pity could be heard mingling through the voices.

      “Let him go home, then, in God’s name!” said one of the number; “that’s the best way.”

      “Ay, take him home,” said another, addressing me; “Dan Kelly ‘s a hard man when he ‘s roused.”

      The words were repeated on every side, and I led De Meudon forth leaning on my arm; for already, the excitement over, a stupid indifference crept over him, and he walked on by my side without speaking.

      I confess it was not without trepidation, and many a backward glance towards the old ruin, that I turned homeward to our cabin. There was that in their looks at which I trembled for my companion; nor do I yet know why they spared him at that moment.

      CHAPTER XI. TOO LATE

      The day which followed the events I have mentioned was a sad one to me. The fatigue and the excitement together brought on fever with De Meudon. His head became attacked, and before evening his faculties began to wander. All the strange events of his checkered life were mixed up in his disturbed intellect; and he talked on for hours about Italy, and Egypt, the Tuileries, La Vendee, and Ireland, without ceasing. The entire of the night he never slept, and the next day the symptoms appeared still more aggravated. The features of his insanity were wilder and less controllable. He lost all memory of me; and sometimes the sight of me at his bedside threw him into most terrific paroxysms of passion; while at others, he would hold my hand for hours together, and seem to feel my presence as something soothing. His frequent recurrence to the scene in the churchyard showed the deep impression it had made upon his mind, and how fatally it had influenced the worst symptoms of his malady.

      Thus passed two days and nights. On the third morning, exhaustion seemed to have worn him into a false calm. His wild, staring eye had become heavier, his movements less rapid; the spot of color had left his cheek; the mouth was pinched up and rigid; and a flatness of the muscles of the face betokened complete depression. He spoke seldom, and with a voice hoarse and cavernous, but no longer in the tone of wild excitement as before. I sat by his bedside still and in silence, my own sad thoughts my only company. As it grew later, the sleepless days and nights I had passed, and the stillness of the sickroom, overcame me, and I slept.

      I awoke with a start; some dreamy consciousness of neglect had flashed across me, and I sat up. I peeped into the bed, and started back with amazement. I looked again, and there lay De Meudon, on the outside of the clothes, dressed in his full uniform, – the green coat and white facing, the large gold epaulettes, the brilliant crosses on the breast; his plumed chapeau lay at one side of him, and his sabre at the other. He lay still and motionless. I held the candle near his face, and could mark a slight smile that curled his cold lip, and gave to his wan and wasted features something of their former expression.

      “Oui, mon cher,” said he, in a weak whisper, as he took my hand and kissed it, “c’est bien moi.” And then added, “It was another of my strange fancies to put on these once more before I died; and when I found you sleeping, I arose and did so. I have changed something since I wore this last: it was at a ball at Cambacérès.”

      My joy at hearing him speak once more with full possession of his reason, was damped by the great change a few hours had worked in his appearance. His skin was cold and clammy; a gluey moisture rested on his cheek; and his teeth were dark and discolored. A slimy froth, too, was ever rising to his lips as he spoke; while at every respiration his chest heaved and waved like a stormy sea.

      “You are thirsty, Charles,” said I, stooping over him to wet his lips.

      “No,” said he, calmly, “I СКАЧАТЬ