Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 2. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ the street, calling Mrs. Rogers’ coach.

      “‘Sure, Captain,’ said the lady, with a tender leer, ‘it’s only a chair.’

      “‘And here it is,’ said I, surveying a very portly-looking old sedan, newly painted and varnished, that blocked up half the hall.

      “‘You’ll catch cold, my angel,’ said Shaugh, in a whisper, for he was coming it very strong by this; ‘get into the chair. Maurice, can’t you find those fellows?’ said he to me, for the chairmen had gone down-stairs, and were making very merry among the servants.

      “‘She’s fast now,’ said I, shutting the door to. ‘Let us do the gallant thing, and carry her home ourselves.’ Shaugh thought this a great notion; and in a minute we mounted the poles and sallied forth, amidst a great chorus of laughing from all the footmen, maids, and teaboys that filled the passage.

      “‘The big house, with the bow-window and the pillars, Captain,’ said a fellow, as we issued upon our journey. “‘I know it,’ said I. ‘Turn to the left after you pass the square.’

      “‘Isn’t she heavy?’ said Shaugh, as he meandered across the narrow streets with a sidelong motion that must have suggested to our fair inside passenger some notions of a sea voyage. In truth, I must confess our progress was rather a devious one, – now zig-zagging from side to side, now getting into a sharp trot, and then suddenly pulling up at a dead stop, or running the machine chuck against a wall, to enable us to stand still and gain breath.

      “‘Which way now?’ cried he, as we swung round the angle of a street and entered the large market-place; ‘I’m getting terribly tired.’

      “‘Never give in, Dan. Think of Clonakilty and the old lady herself.’ Here I gave the chair a hoist that evidently astonished our fair friend, for a very imploring cry issued forth immediately after.

      “‘To the right, quick-step, forward, charge!’ cried I; and we set off at a brisk trot down a steep narrow lane.

      “‘Here it is now, – the light in the window. Cheer up.’

      “As I said this we came short up to a fine, portly-looking doorway, with great stone pillars and cornice.

      “‘Make yourself at home, Maurice,’ said he; ‘bring her in.’ So saying, we pushed forward – for the door was open – and passed boldly into a great flagged hall, silent and cold, and dark as the night itself.

      “‘Are you sure we’re right?’ said he.

      “‘All right,’ said I; ‘go ahead.’

      “And so we did, till we came in sight of a small candle that burned dimly at a distance from us.

      “‘Make for the light,’ said I; but just as I said so Shaugh slipped and fell flat on the flagway. The noise of his fall sent up a hundred echoes in the silent building, and terrified us both dreadfully. After a minute’s pause, by one consent we turned and made for the door, falling almost at every step, and frightened out of our senses, we came tumbling together into the porch, and out in the street, and never drew breath till we reached the barracks. Meanwhile let me return to Mrs. Rogers. The dear old lady, who had passed an awful time since she left the ball, had just rallied out of a fainting fit when we took to our heels; so after screaming and crying her best, she at last managed to open the top of the chair, and by dint of great exertions succeeded in forcing the door, and at length freed herself from bondage. She was leisurely groping her way round it in the dark, when her lamentations, being heard without, woke up the old sexton of the chapel, – for it was there we placed her, – who, entering cautiously with a light, no sooner caught a glimpse of the great black sedan and the figure beside it than he also took to his heels, and ran like a madman to the priest’s house.

      “‘Come, your reverence, come, for the love of marcy! Sure didn’t I see him myself! Oh, wirra, wirra!’

      “‘What is it, ye ould fool?’ said M’Kenny.

      “‘It’s Father Con Doran, your reverence, that was buried last week, and there he is up now, coffin and all, saying a midnight Mass as lively as ever.’

      “Poor Mrs. Rogers, God help her! It was a trying sight for her when the priest and the two coadjutors and three little boys and the sexton all came in to lay her spirit; and the shock she received that night, they say, she never got over.

      “Need I say, my dear O’Mealey, that our acquaintance with Mrs. Rogers was closed? The dear woman had a hard struggle for it afterwards. Her character was assailed by all the elderly ladies in Loughrea for going off in our company, and her blue satin, piped with scarlet, utterly ruined by a deluge of holy water bestowed on her by the pious sexton. It was in vain that she originated twenty different reports to mystify the world; and even ten pounds spent in Masses for the eternal repose of Father Con Doran only increased the laughter this unfortunate affair gave rise to. As for us, we exchanged into the line, and foreign service took us out of the road of duns, debts, and devilment, and we soon reformed, and eschewed such low company.”

      The day was breaking ere we separated; and amidst the rich and fragrant vapors that exhaled from the earth, the faint traces of sunlight dimly stealing told of the morning. My two friends set out for Torrijos, and I pushed boldly forward in the direction of the Alberche.

      It was a strange thing that although but two days before the roads we were then travelling had been the line of retreat of the whole French army, not a vestige of their equipment nor a trace of their matériel had been left behind. In vain we searched each thicket by the wayside for some straggling soldier, some wounded or wearied man; nothing of the kind was to be seen. Except the deeply-rutted road, torn by the heavy wheels of the artillery, and the white ashes of a wood fire, nothing marked their progress.

      Our journey was a lonely one. Not a man was to be met with. The houses stood untenanted; the doors lay open; no smoke wreathed from their deserted hearths. The peasantry had taken to the mountains; and although the plains were yellow with the ripe harvest, and the peaches hung temptingly upon the trees, all was deserted and forsaken. I had often seen the blackened walls and broken rafters, the traces of the wild revenge and reckless pillage of a retiring army. The ruined castle and the desecrated altar are sad things to look upon; but, somehow, a far heavier depression sunk into my heart as my eye ranged over the wide valleys and broad hills, all redolent of comfort, of beauty, and of happiness, and yet not one man to say, “This is my home; these are my household gods.” The birds carolled gayly in each leafy thicket; the bright stream sung merrily as it rippled through the rocks; the tall corn, gently stirred by the breeze, seemed to swell the concert of sweet sounds; but no human voice awoke the echoes there. It was as if the earth was speaking in thankfulness to its Maker, while man, – ungrateful and unworthy man, – pursuing his ruthless path of devastation and destruction, had left no being to say, “I thank Thee for all these.”

      The day was closing as we drew near the Alberche, and came in sight of the watch-fires of the enemy. Far as the eye could reach their column extended, but in the dim twilight nothing could be seen with accuracy; yet from the position their artillery occupied, and the unceasing din of baggage wagons and heavy carriages towards the rear, I came to the conclusion that a still farther retreat was meditated. A picket of light cavalry was posted upon the river’s bank, and seemed to watch with vigilance the approaches to the stream.

      Our bivouac was a dense copse of pine-trees, exactly opposite to the French advanced posts, and there we passed the night, – fortunately a calm and starlight one; for we dared not light fires, fearful of attracting attention.

      During the long hours I lay patiently watching the movements of the enemy СКАЧАТЬ