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

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СКАЧАТЬ wayward and self-willed; but her impulses all had their source in high feelings of honor and exalted pride. It might have been that some chance expression had given her offence; yet she denied this. But still, her former frankness was gone, and a sense of coldness, if not distrust, had usurped its place. I could make nothing of it. One thing alone did I feel convinced of, – she did not love Pioche. Poor fellow! with all the fine traits of his honest nature, the manly simplicity and openness of his character, he had not those arts of pleasing which win their way with a woman’s mind. Besides that, Minette, from habit and tone of voice, had imbibed feelings and ideas of a very different class in society, and with a feminine tact, had contrived to form acquaintance with, and a relish for, the tastes and pleasures of the cultivated World. The total subversion of all social order effected by the Revolution had opened the path of ambition in life equally to women as to men; and all the endeavors of the Consulate and the Empire had not sobered down the minds of France to their former condition. The sergeant to-day saw no reason why he might not wear his epaulettes to-morrow, and in time exchange his shako even for a crown; and so the vivandière, whose life was passed in the intoxicating atmosphere of glory, might well dream of greatness which should be hers hereafter, and of the time when, as the wife of a marshal or a peer of France, she would walk the salons of the Tuileries as proudly as the daughter of a Rohan or a Tavanne.

      There was, then, nothing vain or presumptuous in the boldest flight of ambition. However glittering the goal, it was beyond the reach of none; and the hopes which, in better-ordered communities, had been deemed absurd, seemed here but fair and reasonable. And from this element alone proceeded some of the greatest actions, and by far the greatest portion of the unhappiness, of the period. The mind of the nation was unfixed; men had not as yet resolved themselves into those grades and classes, by the means of which public opinion is brought to bear upon individuals from those of his own condition. Each was a law unto himself, suggesting his own means of advancement and estimating his own powers of success; and the result was, a general scramble for rank, dignity, and honors, the unfitness of the possessor for which, when attained, brought neither contempt nor derision. The epaulette was noblesse; the shako, a coronet. What wonder, then, if she, whose personal attractions were so great, and whose manners and tone of thought were so much above her condition, had felt the stirrings of that ambition within her heart which now appeared to be the moving spirit of the nation!

      Lost in such thoughts, I turned homewards towards my quarters, and was already some distance from the convent when a dragoon galloped up to my side, and asked eagerly if I were the surgeon of the Sixth Grenadiers. As I replied in the negative, he muttered something between his teeth, and added louder, “The poor general; it will be too late after all.”

      So saying, and before I could question him further, he set spurs to his horse, and dashing onwards, soon disappeared in the darkness of the night. A few minutes afterwards I beheld a number of lanterns straight before me on the narrow road, and as I came nearer, a sentinel called out, —

      “Halt there! stand!”

      I gave my name and rank, when the man, advancing towards me, said in a half whisper, —

      “It is our general, sir; they say he cannot be brought any farther, and they must perform the operation here.”

      The soldier’s voice trembled at every word, and he could scarcely falter out, in reply to my question, the name of the wounded officer.

      “General St. Hilaire, sir, who led the grenadiers on the Pratzen,” said the poor fellow, his sorrow struggling with his pride.

      I pressed forward; and there on a litter lay the figure of a large and singularly fine-looking man. His coat, which was covered with orders, lay open, and discovered a shirt stained and clotted with blood; but his most dangerous wound was from a grapeshot in the thigh, which shattered the bone, and necessitated amputation. A young staff surgeon, the only medical man present, was kneeling at his side, and occupied in compressing some wounded vessels to arrest the bleeding, which, at the slightest stir of the patient, broke out anew. The remainder of the group were grenadiers of his own regiment, in whose sad and sorrow-struck faces one might read the affection his men invariably bore him.

      “Is he coming? can you hear any one coming?” said the young surgeon, in an anxious whisper to the soldier beside him.

      “No, sir; but he cannot be far off now,” replied the man.

      “Shall I ride back to Reygern for assistance?” said I, in a low voice, to the surgeon.

      “I thank you, sir,” said the wounded man, in a low, calm tone, – for with the quick ear of suffering he had overheard my question, – “I thank you, but my orderly has already been sent thither. If you could relieve my young friend here from his fatiguing duty for a little, you would render us both a service. I am truly grieved to see him so much exhausted.”

      “No, no, sir!” stammered the youth, as the tears ran fast down his cheeks; “this is my place. I will not leave it.”

      “Kind fellow!” muttered the general, as he pressed his hand gently on the young man’s arm; “I can bear this better than you can.”

      “Ah, here he comes now,” said the sentinel; and the same moment a man dismounted from his horse, and came forward towards us.

      It was Louis, the surgeon of the Emperor himself, despatched by Napoleon the moment he heard of the event. At any other moment, perhaps, the abrupt demeanor of this celebrated surgeon would have savored little of delicacy or feeling; nor even then could I forgive the sudden announcement in which he conveyed to the sufferer that immediate amputation must be performed.

      “No chance left but this, Louis?” said the general.

      “None, sir,” replied the doctor, while he unlocked an instrument case, and busied himself in preparation for the operation.

      “Can you defer it a little; an hour or two, I mean?”

      “An hour, perhaps; not more, certainly.”

      “But am I certain of your services then, Louis?” said the general, trying to smile. “You know I always promised myself your aid when this hour came.”

      “I shall return in an hour,” replied the doctor, pulling out his watch; “I am going to Rapp’s quarters.”

      “Poor Rapp! is he wounded?”

      “A mere sabre-cut; but Sebastiani has suffered more severely. Now then, Lanusse,” said he, addressing the young surgeon, “you remain here. Continue as you are doing, and in an hour – ”

      “In an hour,” echoed the wounded man, with a shudder, as though the anticipation of the dreadful event had thrilled through his very heart. Nor was it till the retiring sounds of the surgeon’s horse had died away in the distance that his features recovered their former calm and tranquil expression.

      “A prompt fellow is Louis,” said he, after a pause; “and though one might like somewhat more courtesy in the Faubourg, yet on the field of battle it is all for the best; this is no place nor time for compliments.”

      The young man answered not a word, either not daring to criticise too harshly his superior, or perhaps his emotion at the moment was too strong for utterance. In reply to my offer to remain with him, however, he thanked me heartily, and seemed gratified that he was not to be left alone in such a trying emergency.

      “Come,” said St. Hilaire, after a pause, “I have asked for time, and am already forgetting how to employ it. Who can write here? Can you, Guilbert?”

      “Alas, no, sir!” said a dark grenadier, blushing СКАЧАТЬ