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

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      Tom Burke Of «Ours», Volume II

      CHAPTER I. THE SICK LEAVE

      “What is it, Minette?” said I, for the third time, as I saw her lean her head from out the narrow casement, and look down into the valley beside the river; “what do you see there?”

      “I see a regiment of infantry coming along the road from Ulm,” said she, after a pause; “and now I perceive the lancers are following them, and the artillery too. Ah! and farther again, I see a great cloud of dust. Mère de Ciél! how tired and weary they all look! It surely cannot be a march in retreat; and, now that I think of it, they have no baggage, nor any wagons with them.”

      “That was a bugle call, Minette! Did you not hear it?”

      “Yes, it’s a halt for a few minutes. Poor fellows! they are sadly exhausted; they cannot even reach the side of the way, but are lying down on the very road. I can bear it no longer. I must find out what it all means.” So saying, she threw round her a mantle which, Spanish fashion, she wore over her head, and hurried from the room.

      For some time I waited patiently for her return; but when half an hour elapsed, I arose and crept to the window. A succession of rocky precipices descended from the terrace on which the house stood, down to the very edge of the Danube, and from the point where I sat the view extended for miles in every direction. What, then, was my astonishment to see the wide plain, not marked by regular columns in marching array, but covered with straggling detachments, hurrying onward as if without order or discipline. Here was an infantry battalion mixed up with a cavalry corps, the foot-soldiers endeavoring to keep up with the ambling trot of the dragoons; there, the ammunition wagons were covered with weary soldiers, too tired to march. Most of the men were without their firelocks, which were piled in a confused heap on the limbers of the guns. No merry chant, no burst of warlike music, cheered them on. They seemed like the scattered fragments of a routed army hurrying onward in search of some place of refuge, – sad and spiritless.

      “Can he have been beaten?” was the fearful thought that flashed across me as I gazed. “Have the bold legions that were never vanquished succumbed at last? Oh, no, no! I’ll not believe it.” And while a glow of fever warmed my whole blood, I buckled on my sabre, and taking my shako, prepared to issue forth. Scarcely had I reached the door, with tottering limbs, when I saw Minette dashing up the steep street at the top speed of her pony, while she flourished above her head a great placard, and waved it to and fro.

      “The news! the news!” cried I, bursting with anxiety. “Are they advancing; or is it a retreat?”

      “Read that!” said she, throwing me a large sheet of paper, headed with the words, “Proclamation! la Grande Armée!” in huge letters, – “read that! for I’ve no breath left to tell you.”

      Soldiers! – The campaign so gloriously begun will soon be completed.

      One victory, and the Austrian empire, so great but a week since, will be humbled in the dust. Hasten on, then! Forced marches, by day and night, will attest your eagerness to meet the enemy; and let the endeavor of each regiment be to arrive soonest on the field of battle.

      “Minette! dearest Minette!” said I, as I threw my arms around her neck, “this is indeed good news.” “Gently, gently, Monsieur!” said she, smiling, while she disengaged herself from my sudden embrace. “Very good news, without doubt; but I don’t think that there is any mention in the bulletin about embracing the vivandières of the army.”

      “At a moment like this, Minette – ”

      “The best thing to do is, to make up one’s baggage and join the march,” said she, very steadily, proceeding at the same time to put her plan into execution.

      While I gave her all assistance in my power, the doctor entered to inform us that all the wounded who were then not sufficiently restored to return to duty were to be conveyed to Munich, where general military hospitals had been established; and that he himself had received orders to repair thither with his sick detachment, in which my name was enrolled.

      “You’ll keep your old friend, François, company, Lieutenant Burke; he is able to move at last.”

      “François!” said I, in ecstasy; “and will he indeed recover?”

      “I have little doubt of it; though certainly he’s not likely to practise as maître d’armes again. You ‘ve spoiled his tierce, though not before it cost the army some of the prettiest fellows I ever saw. But as to yourself – ”

      “As for me, I ‘ll march with the army. I feel perfectly recovered; my arm – ”

      “Oh! as for monsieur’s arms,” said mademoiselle, “I’ll answer for it, they are quite at his Majesty’s service.”

      “Indeed!” said the doctor, knowingly; “I thought it would come to that. Well, well, Mademoiselle, don’t look saucy; let us part good friends for once in our lives.”

      “I hate being reconciled to a surgeon,” said she, pettishly.

      “Why so, I pray?”

      “Oh, you know, when one quarrels with an officer, the poor fellow may be killed before one sees him again; and it’s always a sad thought, that. But your doctor, nothing ever happens to him; you’re sure to see him, with his white apron and his horrid weapons, a hundred times after, and one is always sorry for having forgiven such a cruel wretch.”

      “Come, come, Mademoiselle, you bear us all an ill-will for the fault of one, and that’s not fair. It was the hospital aide of the Sixth, Monsieur, (a handsome fellow, too), who did not fall in love with her after her wound, – a slight scratch.”

      “A slight scratch, do you call it?” said I, indignantly, as I perceived the poor girl’s eyes fill at the raillery of her tormentor.

      “Ah! monsieur has seen it, then?” said he, maliciously. “A thousand pardons. I have the honor to wish you both adieu.” And with that, and a smile of the most impertinent meaning, he took his leave.

      “How silly to be vexed for so little, Minette!” said I, approaching and endeavoring to console her.

      “Well, but to call my wound a scratch!” said she. “Was it not too bad? and I the only vivandière of the army that ever felt a bullet.”

      And with that she turned away her head; but I could see, as she wiped her eyes, that she cared less for the sarcasm on her wounded shoulder than the insult to her wounded heart. Poor girl! she looked sick and pale the whole day after.

      We learned in the course of the day that some cavalry detachments would pass early on the morrow, thus allowing us sufficient time to provide ourselves with horses, and make our other arrangements for the march. These we succeeded in doing to our satisfaction; I being fortunate enough to secure the charger of an Austrian prisoner, mademoiselle being already admirably mounted with her palfrey. Occupied with these details, the day passed rapidly over, and the hour for supper drew near without my feeling how the time slipped past.

      At last the welcome meal made its appearance, and with it mademoiselle herself. I could not help remarking that her toilette displayed a more than common attention: her neat Parisian cap; her collar, with its deep Valenciennes lace; and her tablier, so coquettishly embroidered, – were all signs of an unusual degree of care; and though she was pale and in low spirits, I never saw her look so pretty. All my efforts to make her converse were, however, in vain. Some secret weight lay heavily on her spirits, and not even the stirring topics of the coming campaign could awaken one spark of her enthusiasm. She evaded, too, every allusion to the following day’s march, or answered my questions about it СКАЧАТЬ