White Lies

by Charles Reade

  CHAPTER VI.

  At Bayonne, a garrison town on the south frontier of France, twosentinels walked lethargically, crossing and recrossing before thegovernor's house. Suddenly their official drowsiness burst into energy;for a pale, grisly man, in rusty, defaced, dirty, and torn regimentals,was walking into the courtyard as if it belonged to him. The sentinelslowered their muskets, and crossed them with a clash before the gateway.

  The scarecrow did not start back. He stopped and looked down with asmile at the steel barrier the soldiers had improvised for him, thendrew himself a little up, carried his hand carelessly to his cap, whichwas nearly in two, and gave the name of an officer in the French army.

  If you or I, dressed like a beggar who years ago had stolen regimentalsand worn them down to civil garments, had addressed these soldiers withthese very same words, the bayonets would have kissed closer, or perhapsthe points been turned against our sacred and rusty person: but there isa freemasonry of the sword. The light, imperious hand that touched thatbattered cap, and the quiet clear tone of command told. The sentinelsslowly recovered their pieces, but still looked uneasy and doubtful intheir minds. The battered one saw this, and gave a sort of lofty smile;he turned up his cuffs and showed his wrists, and drew himself stillhigher.

  The sentinels shouldered their pieces sharp, then dropped themsimultaneously with a clatter and ring upon the pavement.

  "Pass, captain."

  The rusty figure rang the governor's bell. A servant came and eyedhim with horror and contempt. He gave his name, and begged to see thegovernor. The servant left him in the hall, and went up-stairs to tellhis master. At the name the governor reflected, then frowned, then badehis servant reach him down a certain book. He inspected it. "I thoughtso: any one with him?"

  "No, your excellency."

  "Load my pistols, put them on the table, show him in, and then order aguard to the door."

  The governor was a stern veteran with a powerful brow, a shaggy eyebrow,and a piercing eye. He never rose, but leaned his chin on his hand, andhis elbow on a table that stood between them, and eyed his visitor veryfixedly and strangely. "We did not expect to see you on this side thePyrenees," said he gravely.

  "Nor I myself, governor."

  "What do you come for?"

  "A suit of regimentals, and money to take me to Paris."

  "And suppose, instead of that, I turn out a corporal's guard, and bidthem shoot you in the courtyard?"

  "It would be the drollest thing you ever did, all things considered,"said the other coolly, but bitterly.

  The governor looked for the book he had lately consulted, found thepage, handed it to the rusty officer, and watched him keenly: the bloodrushed all over his face, and his lip trembled; but his eye dwelt sternyet sorrowful on the governor.

  "I have read your book, now read mine." He drew off his coat and showedhis wrists and arms, blue and waled. "Can you read that, sir?"

  "No."

  "All the better for you: Spanish fetters, general." He showed a whitescar on his shoulder. "Can you read that? This is what I cut out of it,"and he handed the governor a little round stone as big and almost asregular as a musket-ball.

  "Humph! that could hardly have been fired from a French musket."

  "Can you read this?" and he showed him a long cicatrix on his other arm.

  "Knife I think," said the governor.

  "You are right, sir: Spanish knife. Can you read this?" and opening hisbosom he showed a raw wound on his breast.

  "Oh, the devil!" cried the governor.

  The wounded man put his rusty coat on again, and stood erect, andhaughty, and silent.

  The general eyed him, and saw his great spirit shining through this man.The more he looked the less could the scarecrow veil the hero from hispractised eye. He said there must be some mistake, or else he was inhis dotage; after a moment's hesitation, he added, "Be seated, if youplease, and tell me what you have been doing all these years."

  "Suffering."

  "Not all the time, I suppose."

  "Without intermission."

  "But what? suffering what?"

  "Cold, hunger, darkness, wounds, solitude, sickness, despair, prison,all that man can suffer."

  "Impossible! a man would be dead at that rate before this."

  "I should have died a dozen deaths but for one thing; I had promised herto live."

  There was a pause. Then the old soldier said gravely, but more kindly,to the young one, "Tell me the facts, captain" (the first time he hadacknowledged his visitor's military rank).

  An hour had scarce elapsed since the rusty figure was stopped by thesentinels at the gate, when two glittering officers passed out underthe same archway, followed by a servant carrying a furred cloak. Thesentinels presented arms. The elder of these officers was the governor:the younger was the late scarecrow, in a brand-new uniform belonging tothe governor's son. He shone out now in his true light; the beau idealof a patrician soldier; one would have said he had been born with asword by his side and drilled by nature, so straight and smart, yet easyhe was in every movement. He was like a falcon, eye and all, only, asit were, down at the bottom of the hawk's eye lay a dove's eye. Thatcompound and varying eye seemed to say, I can love, I can fight: I canfight, I can love, as few of you can do either.

  The old man was trying to persuade him to stay at Bayonne, until hiswound should be cured.

  "No, general, I have other wounds to cure of longer standing than thisone."

  "Well, promise me to lay up at Paris."

  "General, I shall stay an hour at Paris."

  "An hour in Paris! Well, at least call at the War Office and presentthis letter."

  That same afternoon, wrapped in the governor's furred cloak, the youngofficer lay at his full length in the coupe of the diligence, the wholeof which the governor had peremptorily demanded for him, and rolled dayand night towards Paris.

  He reached it worn with fatigue and fevered by his wound, but his spiritas indomitable as ever. He went to the War Office with the governor'sletter. It seemed to create some little sensation; one functionary cameand said a polite word to him, then another. At last to his infinitesurprise the minister himself sent down word he wished to see him; theminister put several questions to him, and seemed interested in him andtouched by his relation.

  "I think, captain, I shall have to send to you: where do you stay inParis?"

  "Nowhere, monsieur; I leave Paris as soon as I can find an easy-goinghorse."

  "But General Bretaux tells me you are wounded."

  "Not dangerously."

  "Pardon me, captain, but is this prudent? is it just to yourself andyour friends?"

  "Yes, I owe it to those who perhaps think me dead."

  "You can write to them."

  "I grudge so great, so sacred a joy to a letter. No! after all I havesuffered I claim to be the one to tell her I have kept my word: Ipromised to live, and I live."

  "HER? then I say no more, only tell me what road you take."

  "The road to Brittany."

  As the young officer was walking his horse by the roadside about aleague and a half from Paris, he heard a clatter behind him, and upgalloped an aide-de-camp and drew up alongside, bringing his horsenearly on his haunches.

  He handed him a large packet sealed with the arms of France. The othertore it open; and there was his brevet as colonel. His cheek flushedand his eye glittered with joy. The aide-de-camp next gave him a parcel:"Your epaulets, colonel! We hear you are going into the wilds whereepaulets don't grow. You are to join the army of the Rhine as soon asyour wound is well."

  "Wherever my country calls me."

  "Your address, then, colonel, that we may know where to put our fingeron a tried soldier when we want one."

  "I am going to Beaurepaire."

  "Beaurepaire? I never heard of it."

  "You never heard of Beaurepaire? it is in Brittany, forty-five leaguesfrom Paris, forty-three leagues and a half from here."

  "Good! Healt
h and honor to you, colonel."

  "The same to you, lieutenant; or a soldier's death."

  The new colonel read the precious document across his horse's mane, andthen he was going to put one of the epaulets on his right shoulder, bareat present: but he reflected.

  "No; she should make him a colonel with her own dear hand. He put themin his pocket. He would not even look at them till she had seen them.Oh, how happy he was not only to come back to her alive, but to comeback to her honored."

  His wound smarted, his limbs ached, but no pain past or present couldlay hold of his mind. In his great joy he remembered past sufferingand felt present pain--yet smiled. Only every now and then he pined forwings to shorten the weary road.

  He was walking his horse quietly, drooping a little over his saddle,when another officer well mounted came after him and passed him at ahand gallop with one hasty glance at his uniform, and went tearing onlike one riding for his life.

  "Don't I know that face?" said Dujardin.

  He cudgelled his memory, and at last he remembered it was the face ofan old comrade. At least it strongly reminded him of one Jean Raynal whohad saved his life in the Arno, when they were lieutenants together.

  Yes, it was certainly Raynal, only bronzed by service in some hotcountry.

  "Ah!" thought Camille; "I suppose I am more changed than he is; for hecertainly did not recognize me at all. Now I wonder what that fellow hasbeen doing all this time. What a hurry he was in! a moment more andI should have hailed him. Perhaps I may fall in with him at the nexttown."

  He touched his horse with the spur, and cantered gently on, for trottingshook him more than he could bear. Even when he cantered he had to presshis hand against his bosom, and often with the motion a bitterer pangthan usual came and forced the water from his eyes; and then he smiled.His great love and his high courage made this reply to the body'sanguish. And still his eyes looked straight forward as at some objectin the distant horizon, while he came gently on, his hand pressed to hisbosom, his head drooping now and then, smiling patiently, upon the roadto Beaurepaire.

  Oh! if anybody had told him that in five days his Josephine was to bemarried; and that the bronzed comrade, who had just galloped past him,was to marry her!

  At Beaurepaire they were making and altering wedding-dresses. Rose wasexcited, and even Josephine took a calm interest. Dress never goes fornothing with her sex. The chairs and tables were covered, and the floorwas littered. The baroness was presiding over the rites of vanity, andtelling them what she wore at her wedding, under Louis XV., with strictaccuracy, and what we men should consider a wonderful effort of memory,when the Commandant Raynal came in like a cannon-ball, withoutany warning, and stood among them in a stiff, military attitude.Exclamations from all the party, and then a kind greeting, especiallyfrom the baroness.

  "We have been so dull without you, Jean."

  "And I have missed you once or twice, mother-in-law, I can tell you.Well, I have got bad news; but you must consider we live in a busy time.To-morrow I start for Egypt."

  Loud ejaculations from the baroness and Rose. Josephine put down herwork quietly.

  The baroness sighed deeply, and the tears came into her eyes. "Oh,you must not be down-hearted, old lady," shouted Raynal. "Why, I am aslikely to come back from Egypt as not. It is an even chance, to say theleast."

  This piece of consolation completed the baroness's unhappiness. Shereally had conceived a great affection for Raynal, and her heart hadbeen set on the wedding.

  "Take away all that finery, girls," said she bitterly; "we shall notwant it for years. I shall not be alive when he comes home from Egypt.I never had a son--only daughters--the best any woman ever had; but amother is not complete without a son, and I shall never live to have onenow."

  "I hate General Bonaparte," said Rose viciously.

  "Hate my general?" groaned Raynal, looking down with a sort ofsuperstitious awe and wonder at the lovely vixen. "Hate the best soldierthe world ever saw?"

  "What do I care for his soldiership? He has put off our wedding. For howmany years did you say?"

  "No; he has put it on."

  In answer to the astonished looks this excited, he explained that thewedding was to have been in a week, but now it must be to-morrow at teno'clock.

  The three ladies set up their throats together. "Tomorrow?"

  "To-morrow. Why, what do you suppose I left Paris for yesterday? left myduties even."

  "What, monsieur?" asked Josephine, timidly, "did you ride all thatway, and leave your duties MERELY TO MARRY ME?" and she looked a littlepleased.

  "You are worth a great deal more trouble than that," said Raynal simply."Besides, I had passed my word, and I always keep my word."

  "So do I," said Josephine, a little proudly. "I will not go from it now,if you insist; but I confess to you, that such a proposal staggers me;so sudden--no preliminaries--no time to reflect; in short, there are somany difficulties that I must request you to reconsider the matter."

  "Difficulties," shouted Raynal with merry disdain; "there are none,unless you sit down and make them; we do more difficult things thanthis every day of our lives: we passed the bridge of Arcola in thirteenminutes; and we had not the consent of the enemy, as we have yours--havewe not?"

  Her only reply was a look at her mother, to which the baroness repliedby a nod; then turning to Raynal, "This empressement is very flattering;but I see no possibility: there is an etiquette we cannot altogetherdefy: there are preliminaries before a daughter of Beaurepaire canbecome a wife."

  "There used to be all that, madam," laughed Raynal, putting her downgood-humoredly; "but it was in the days when armies came out and touchedtheir caps to one another, and went back into winter quarters. Then thestruggle was who could go slowest; now the fight is who can go fastest.Time and Bonaparte wait for nobody; and ladies and other strongplaces are taken by storm, not undermined a foot a month as under NoahQuartorze: let me cut this short, as time is short."

  He then drew a little plan of a wedding campaign. "The carriages will behere at 9 A.M.," said he; "they will whisk us down to the mayor'shouse by a quarter to ten: Picard, the notary, meets us there with themarriage contract, to save time; the contract signed, the mayor will dothe marriage at quick step out of respect for me--half an hour--quarterpast ten; breakfast in the same house an hour and a quarter:--we mustn'thurry a wedding breakfast--then ten minutes or so for the old fogies towaste in making speeches about our virtues--my watch will come out--mycharger will come round--I rise from the table--embrace my dear oldmother--kiss my wife's hand--into the saddle--canter to Paris--roll toToulon--sail to Egypt. But I shall leave a wife and a mother behindme: they will both send me a kind word now and then; and I will writeletters to you all from Egypt, and when I come home, my wife and I willmake acquaintance, and we will all be happy together: and if I am killedout there, don't you go and fret your poor little hearts about it; itis a soldier's lot sooner or later. Besides, you will find I have takencare of you; nobody shall come and turn you out of your quarters,even though Jean Raynal should be dead; I have got to meet Picard atRiviere's on that very business--I am off."

  He was gone as brusquely as he came.

  "Mother! sister!" cried Josephine, "help me to love this man."

  "You need no help," cried the baroness, with enthusiasm, "not love him,we should all be monsters."

  Raynal came to supper looking bright and cheerful. "No more work to-day.I have nothing to do but talk; fancy that."

  This evening Josephine de Beaurepaire, who had been silent andthoughtful, took a quiet opportunity, and purred in his ear, "Monsieur!"

  "Mademoiselle!" rang the trombone.

  "Am I not to go to Egypt?"

  "No."

  Josephine drew back at this brusque reply like a sensitive plant. Butshe returned to the attack.

  "But is it not a wife's duty to be by her husband's side to look afterhis comfort--to console him when others vex him--to soothe him when heis harassed?"

 
"Her first duty is to obey him."

  "Certainly."

  "Well, when I am your husband, I shall bid you stay with your mother andsister while I go to Egypt."

  "I shall obey you."

  He told her bluntly he thought none the worse of her for making theoffer; but should not accept it.

  Camille Dujardin slept that night at a roadside inn about twelve milesfrom Beaurepaire, and not more than six from the town where the weddingwas to take place next day.

  It was a close race.

  And the racers all unconscious of each other, yet spurred impartially byevents that were now hurrying to a climax.