The Casque's Lark; or, Victoria, the Mother of the Camps

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER II.

  THE CATASTROPHE.

  When I reached home, my son, I found your mother Ellen and her sisterSampso seated near your cradle. The moment Sampso saw me she cried:

  "You arrive in time, Schanvoch, to help me convince Ellen that her fearsare groundless--she is weeping--"

  "What ails you, Ellen? What afflicts you?"

  She dropped her head, made no answer, and continued weeping.

  "She does not dare to admit to you the cause of her affliction,Schanvoch; my sister weeps because you are about to depart."

  "What?" I asked Ellen in a tone of tender reproach, "you who are alwaysso brave even when I leave for battle, are now timorous and tearful whenI am only going on a peaceful journey that will not keep me away morethan a few days--a journey into Gaul, where peace reigns! Ellen, yourapprehensions are groundless."

  "That is exactly what I have been repeating to my sister. Your journeydoes not expose you to any danger; and if you depart to-night it isbecause the matter is urgent."

  "Yes, indeed! Why, it must be a positive pleasure to journey in themanner that I am about to do--on a mild summer's night, across thesmiling fields of our own beautiful country that is to-day so calm andpeaceful!"

  "I know all that," said Ellen in a tremulous voice. "My alarm issenseless; and yet this journey fills me with dread."

  And stretching her arms towards me imploringly:

  "Schanvoch, my beloved husband, do not depart; I conjure you--do notdepart--"

  "Ellen," I replied sadly, "for the first time in my life I am compelledto answer you with a refusal--"

  "I beg you, stay near me!"

  "I would sacrifice everything to you, my duty excepted. The mission withwhich I am charged by Victoria is important--I promised to fulfil it. Imust keep my word."

  "Well, then, go," answered my wife amid a paroxysm of sobs, "and let myfate come upon me; it is your will!"

  "Sampso, what fate does she mean?"

  "Alas! Since this morning my sister has been a prey to gloomypresentiments. She admitted them to be as unaccountable as I consideredthem myself, and yet she is unable to overcome them. She says she feelscertain that she will never see you again--or that some grave perilthreatens you during your journey."

  "Ellen, my beloved wife," I said, clasping her to my heart, "need I tellyou that, short as our separation may be, it is always hard for me to beaway from you? Would you add to that sorrow, the even greater one ofhaving to leave you in such a desolate state?"

  "Pardon me," answered Ellen making a strong effort over herself. "Youare right; such weakness is unworthy of the wife of a soldier. See; Ihave stopped weeping. I am calm; your words have reassured me; I amashamed of my timorous terrors; but in the name of our child who is nowasleep in his cradle, do not go away annoyed at me. Let your good-byecaresses be tender as ever; I shall need that; yes, I shall need that inorder to recover the courage that I am deficient in to-day."

  Despite her apparent resignation, my wife seemed to suffer so much underthe restraint that she imposed upon herself, that for a moment I thoughtof requesting Victoria to transfer the commission to Captain Marion, tothe end that I might remain at home. One consideration held me back fromputting the thought into execution; the time was too short. Seeing thatthe journey had to be undertaken that same night, Captain Marion couldnot possibly start on the spot. It would take hours in order to post thecaptain upon a matter of which he knew absolutely nothing, and whichdemanded promptness for success. Yielding to my duty, and, I must alsosay, convinced of the idleness of Ellen's fears, I decided to depart. Iclasped her in my arms, and recommending her to the tender care ofSampso, I mounted my horse and rode off.

  It was ten o'clock at night. A rider was to serve as my escort andmessenger in case I had occasion to write to Victoria on the road. Therider was chosen for me by Captain Marion, to whom I applied for areliable man; I found him ready, waiting for me at one of the gates ofMayence, and we trotted forth together. Although the moon was not torise until late, the night was luminous by the light of the stars. Inoticed, although without attaching at the time any importance to thecircumstance, that, despite the mildness of the season, my travelingcompanion had on a heavy coat the hood of which fell down deep over hiscasque, so that even in full daylight it would have been difficult forme to see the man's face. Although a simple soldier like myself, insteadof riding beside me, he allowed me to ride ahead of him withoutexchanging a word. On any other occasion, and being like all Gauls of achatty disposition, I would not have accepted this mark of exaggerateddeference; it would have deprived me of the conversation of a companionduring a long ride. But I was saddened by the condition in which I hadleft my wife, and as despite myself, my mind insisted upon turning uponthe sad forebodings that alarmed her, the sense of sadness grew upon mein the measure that the distance separating us increased; consequently Idid not regret being left to my reflections during a part of the night.Thus, the rider following me, we traveled away from the town.

  We had ridden about two hours without exchanging a word; the moon due inthe sky towards midnight began to show her disk behind a hill thatbounded the horizon. We had arrived at a crossing where four highways,built by the Romans, met. I slackened Tom-Bras's pace in order toascertain the road I was to take, when suddenly my traveling companionraised his voice behind me and cried:

  "Schanvoch, ride back home at full tilt--a horrible crime is beingcommitted at this hour in your house!"

  At these words I quickly turned in my saddle. By the glamour of therising moon I could see the rider give a stupendous bound with hishorse, clear the hedge that lined the road, and vanish in the shadow ofthe forest that we had been skirting for some time. Struck dumb withterror, I remained motionless for a moment; when, yielding to an impulseof curiosity and anguish, I thought of dashing after the rider andcompelling an explanation of his words, it was too late. The moon wasnot yet far up enough to justify my pursuing the fugitive through thewood, which, moreover, was unknown to me. Besides, the rider had toomuch the lead of me. I listened intently for a moment, and I could hearin the profound stillness of the night the rapid gallop of the man'shorse. He was far away. It seemed to me that he resumed the road toMayence through the forest, consequently by a shorter route. For amoment I hesitated what to do. But recalling my wife's unaccountableforebodings and comparing them with the rider's words, I turned myhorse's head and dashed back to the city.

  "If," I thought to myself, "by some unconceivable accident theannouncement to which I hearkened was as ill founded as Ellen'sforebodings, with which, however, it strangely coincided; if my alarmturns out to be vain, I shall take a fresh horse at the camp andimmediately resume my journey, which will have been delayed by threehours."

  With voice and heels I urged on the rapid course of my horse Tom-Bras,and I rode headlong towards Mayence. In the measure that I approachedthe place where I left my wife and child, the gloomiest thoughts crowdedupon me. What crime could it be that was being committed in my house?Was it to a friend, or was it to an enemy that I owed the revelation? Attimes I imagined the rider's voice was not unknown to me, yet I couldnot remember where I had heard it before. That which, above all, addedfuel to my anxiety was the mysterious accord between the announcementjust made to me and the presentiments that alarmed Ellen. The risingmoon aided the swiftness of my course as it lighted the road. Trees,fields, houses vanished behind me with giddy swiftness. I consumed lessthan an hour in covering the same route that I had just spent two hoursover. At last I reached the gates of Mayence. I felt Tom-Bras tremblingunder me, not for want of ardor or courage, but because his strength wasspent. Seeing a soldier mounting guard, I said:

  "Did you see a rider enter town this night?"

  "About a quarter of an hour ago," the soldier answered, "a rider wrappedin a hooded mantle went by at a gallop. He rode towards the camp."

  "It is he," I said to myself, and resumed my course at the risk ofseeing Tom-Bras expire under me. There could be no doubt; my tra
velingcompanion made a short cut through the forest, but why did he proceed tothe camp, instead of entering the town? A few moments later I arrivedbefore my house. I leaped down from my horse that neighed gladly as herecognized the place. I ran to the door and knocked hard. No one openedto me, but I heard muffled cries within. Again I knocked with the handleof my sword, but in vain. The cries grew louder; I thought I heardSampso's voice--I tried to break down the door--impossible. Suddenly thewindow of my wife's room was thrown open. I ran thither sword in hand.At the instant when I arrived at the casement, the shutters were pulledopen from within. I rushed through the passage and found myself face toface with a man. The darkness prevented me from recognizing him. He wasin the act of fleeing from Ellen's room, whose heartrending cries thenreached my ears. To seize the man by the throat at the moment when heput his foot upon the window sill in order to escape, to throw him backinto the pitch dark room, and to strike him several times with my swordwhile I cried: 'Ellen, here I am!'--all this happened with theswiftness of thought. I drew my sword from the body that lay at my feetand was about to plunge it again into the carcass--my rage wasuncontrollable--when I felt two arms clasp me convulsively. I thoughtmyself attacked by a second adversary and forthwith ran the other bodythrough. The arms that had been thrown around my neck immediatelyloosened their hold, and at the same time I heard these words pronouncedby an expiring voice:

  "Schanvoch--you have killed me--thanks, my friend--it is sweet to me todie at your hands--I would not have been able to survive my shame--"

  It was Ellen's voice.

  My wife had run, dumb with terror, to place herself under my protection.It was her arms that had clasped me. I heard her fall upon the floor. Iremained thunder-struck. My sword dropped from my hand; for severalseconds the silence of death reigned in the room that was perfectly darkexcept for a beam of pale light that fell from the moon through thelattice of one of the shutters that the wind had blown to. The shutterwas suddenly thrown open again from without, and by the light of themoon I saw a tall and slender woman, clad in a short red skirt and asilvery corsage, resting with her knee upon the outer window sill andleaning her head into the room say:

  "Victorin, handsome Tarquin of a new Lucretia, quit the house; the nightis far advanced. I saw you enter the door at midnight, the hour agreedupon, the husband being away. You shall now leave your charmer's houseby the window, the passage of lovers. You kept your promise--now I amyours. Come, my cart awaits us. Venus will protect us!"

  "Victorin!" I cried horrified, believing myself the sport of a frightfulnightmare. "It was he--I killed him!"

  "The husband!" exclaimed Kidda, the Bohemian, leaping back. "It must bethe devil that brought him back!"

  And she vanished.

  Immediately afterwards I heard the sound of a cart's wheels and theclinking of the bell of the mule that drew it rapidly away, while fromanother direction, from the quarter of the camp, I heard a distant roarthat drew steadily nearer and resembled the hubbub of a tumultuous mob.My stupor was followed by a distressful agony lighted by a faint ray ofhope--perhaps Ellen was not dead. I ran to the inside chamber; it wasclosed from within. I knocked and called Sampso at the top of my voice.She answered me from another room, in which she had been locked up. Iset her free, crying aloud:

  "I struck Ellen with my sword in the dark--the wound may not bemortal;--run for the druid Omer--"

  "I shall run to him on the spot," answered Sampso without asking me anyquestions.

  She rushed to the house door which was bolted from within. As she openedit I saw a mob of soldiers advancing over the square where my house wassituated and which was close to the entrance of the camp. Severalsoldiers carried torches; all uttered loud and threatening cries inwhich the name of Victorin constantly recurred.

  I recognized the veteran Douarnek at the head of the mob. He wasbrandishing his sword.

  "Schanvoch," he cried the moment he recognized me, "the rumor has justrun over the camp that a shocking crime was committed in your house!"

  "And the criminal is Victorin!" cried several voices drowning mine."Death to the infamous fellow!"

  "Death to the infamous fellow, who violated the wife of his friend!"

  "Just as he violated the wife of the tavern-keeper on the Rhine, whokilled herself in despair."

  "The cowardly hypocrite pretended to have mended his ways!"

  "To dishonor a soldier's wife! The wife of Schanvoch, who loved thedebauche as if he were his own son!"

  "And who, moreover, saved his life in battle!"

  "Death! Death to the wretch!"

  I found it impossible to dominate the furious cries with my voice;Sampso vainly sought to cross the crowd.

  "For pity's sake, let me pass!" Sampso implored them. "I wish to fetch aphysician druid. Ellen still breathes; her wound may not be mortal! Letme bring her help!"

  Her words only served to redouble the indignation and fury of thesoldiers. Instead of opening a passage for my wife's sister, they droveher back as they crowded towards the door. A compact and enraged massstood there brandishing their swords, shaking their fists andvociferating:

  "Death! Death to Victorin!"

  "He slew Schanvoch's wife after doing violence to her!"

  "She has died as the tavern-keeper's wife on the Rhine!"

  "Victorin!" thundered Douarnek. "You will not this time escapepunishment for your crimes!"

  "We shall be your executioners!"

  "Death! Death to Victorin!"

  "It is impossible to break through the crowd and fetch a physician formy sister--she is lost!" Sampso cried out to me wringing her hands,while I vainly strove to make myself heard by the delirious crowd.

  "I shall try to get out by the window," said Sampso.

  Saying this the distracted girl rushed into the mortuary chamber, and I,making superhuman efforts to prevent the infuriated soldiers frominvading my house in search of the general, for whose blood theythirsted, cried out to them:

  "Withdraw! Leave me alone in this house of mourning! Justice has beendone! Withdraw, comrades, withdraw!"

  An ever heightening tumult drowned my words. I saw Sampso issuing fromyour mother's room carrying you, my son, in her arms. She was sobbingaloud and said:

  "Brother, there is no hope! Ellen is rigid--her heart has stoppedbeating--she is dead!"

  "Dead! Oh, dead! Hesus, have pity upon me!" I moaned and leaned againstthe wall of the vestibule; I felt my strength leaving me. Suddenly,however, a thrill ran through my frame. From mouth to mouth these wordsbegan to circulate among the soldiers:

  "Here is Victoria! Here comes our mother!"

  As the words were uttered the crowd swayed back from the entrance of myhouse to make room for my foster-sister. Such was the respect that theaugust woman inspired in the army, that silence speedily succeeded thetumultuous clamors of the soldiers. They realized the terrible positionof that mother, who, attracted by the cries for justice and vengeanceuttered against her own son, accused of an infamous crime, approachedthe scene in all the majesty of her maternal grief.

  As to me, my heart felt like breaking. Victoria, my foster-sister, thewoman in whose behalf my life had been but one continuous day ofdevotion--Victoria was about to find in my house the corpse of her son,slain by me--by me who knew him since his birth, and who loved him likemy own! The thought of fleeing flashed through my mind--I lacked thephysical strength. I remained where I was, supporting myself against thewall--distracted--vaguely looking before me, unable to stir.

  The crowd of soldiers parted; they formed a long passage; and by thelight of the moon and the torches I saw Victoria, clad in her long blackrobe and her little grandson in her arms, advancing slowly. Shedoubtlessly hoped to soothe the exasperation of the soldiers bypresenting the innocent creature to their sight. Tetrik, Captain Marionand several other officers, who had notified Victoria of the tumult andits cause, followed behind her. They seemed to succeed in calming theseething fury of the troops. The silence grew solemn. The Mother of theCamp
s was only a few steps from my house when Douarnek approached her,and bending his knee said:

  "Mother, your son has committed a great crime--we pity you from thebottom of our hearts. But you will see to it that justice is renderedus--we demand justice--"

  "Yes, yes, justice!" cried the soldiers, whose irritation, after beingchecked for a moment, now broke out with renewed violence. The cry brokeforth from all parts: "Justice! Or we will do justice ourselves!"

  "Death to the infamous wretch!"

  "Death to the man who dishonored his friend's wife!"

  "Cursed be the name of Victorin!"

  "Yes, cursed--cursed!" repeated a thousand threatening voices. "Cursedbe his name forever!"

  Pale, calm and imposing, Victoria stopped for a moment before Douarnek,who bent his knee as he addressed her. But when the cries of: "Death toVictorin!" "Cursed be his name!" exploded anew, my foster-sister, whosevirile and beautiful countenance betrayed mortal anguish, stretched outher arms with the little child in them, as if the innocent creatureimplored mercy for its father.

  It was then that the cries broke forth with fiercest violence:

  "Death to Victorin! Cursed be his name!"

  And immediately I perceived my recent traveling companion, recognizableby his cloak and hood, in which he still kept himself closely wrapped,push himself with a menacing air toward Victoria, and shaking his fistat her, cry:

  "Yes, cursed be the name of Victorin! Let his stock be uprooted!"

  Saying this the man violently tore the child from Victoria's arms, tookit by the two feet, and dashed it with such fury upon the cobble-stonesthat its head was instantly shattered. The deed of ferocity was donewith such brutality and swiftness that, although it aroused instantindignation, neither Douarnek nor any of the soldiers who precipitatedthemselves upon the hooded man to save the child were in time. Theinnocent child lay dead and bleeding upon the ground. I heard aheartrending cry escape Victoria, but immediately lost sight of her;fearing that some sort of danger threatened her life, the soldiersspeedily surrounded and built with their breasts a wall around theirmother. The rumor also reached my ears that, thanks to the tumult whichensued, the perpetrator of the horrible murder had succeeded in makinghis escape. Presently the ranks of the soldiers opened anew amidmournful silence, and again I perceived Victoria, her face bathed intears, holding in her arms the now lifeless and bleeding body ofVictorin's son. At the sight, I cried out from the threshold of myhouse to the crowd that was now dumb and in consternation:

  "You demand justice? Justice has been done. I, Schanvoch, I have killedVictorin myself. He is innocent of my wife's death. Now, withdraw. Allowthe Mother of the Camps to enter my house that she may weep over thebodies of her son and grandson."

  Victoria thereupon said to me in a firm voice as she stood at thethreshold of my house:

  "You killed my son; you were right to avenge the outrage done to you."

  "Yes," I answered her in a hollow voice, "yes, and in the dark I alsokilled my wife."

  "Come, Schanvoch, join me in closing the eyelids of Ellen andVictorin."