Alice of Old Vincennes

by Maurice Thompson

  CHAPTER XIV

  A PRISONER OF LOVE

  Alice put on her warmest clothes and followed Captain Farnsworth to thefort, realizing that no pleasant experience awaited her. The wind andrain still prevailed when they were ready to set forth, and, althoughit was not extremely cold, a searching chill went with every throb thatmarked the storm's waves. No lights shone in the village houses.Overhead a gray gloom covered stars and sky, making the darkness in thewatery streets seem densely black. Farnsworth offered Alice his arm,but she did not accept it.

  "I know the way better than you do," she said. "Come on, and don't beafraid that I am going to run. I shall not play any trick on you."

  "Very well, Mademoiselle, as you like. I trust you."

  He followed her from the house. He was so filled with the bitterness ofwhat he was doing that he carried her sword in his hand all the way tothe fort, quite unaware that its point often touched her dress so thatshe plainly felt it. Indeed, she thought he was using that ruffianlyand dangerous means of keeping pace with her. He had sent the patrol onits rounds, taking upon himself the responsibility of delivering her toHamilton. She almost ran, urged by the strange excitement that burnedin her heart, and he followed somewhat awkwardly, stumbling over theunfamiliar way in the rain and darkness.

  At every step he was wishing that she would escape from him. Coarse ashis nature was and distorted by hardening experiences, it was rooted ingood English honesty and imbued with a chivalric spirit. When, ashappened too often, he fell under the influence of liquor, the bad inhim promptly came uppermost; but at all other times his better traitsmade him a good fellow to meet, genial, polite, generous, and inclinedto recognize the finer sentiments of manliness. To march into hiscommander's presence with Alice as his prisoner lacked everything ofagreeing with his taste; yet he had not been willing to give her overinto the hands of the patrol. If his regard for military obligation hadnot been exceptionally strong, even for an English soldier, he wouldhave given way to the temptation of taking her to some place of hidingand safety, instead of brutally subjecting her to Hamilton's harshjudgment. He anticipated a trying experience for her on account of thisnew transgression.

  They hastened along until a lantern in the fort shot a hazy gleam uponthem.

  "Stop a moment, Mademoiselle," Farnsworth called. "I say, MissRoussillon, stop a moment, please."

  Alice halted and turned facing him so short and so suddenly that therapier in his hand pricked through her wraps and slightly scratched herarm.

  "What do you mean, sir?" she demanded, thinking that he had thrustpurposely. "Do I deserve this brutality?"

  "You mistake me, Miss Roussillon. I cannot be brutal to you now. Do notfear me; I only had a word to say."

  "Oh, you deem it very polite and gentle to jab me with your sword, doyou? If I had one in my hand you would not dare try such a thing, andyou know it very well."

  He was amazed, not knowing that the sword-point had touched her. Hecould not see her face, but there was a flash in her voice thatstartled him with its indignant contempt and resentment.

  "What are you saying, Miss Roussillon? I don't understand you. When didI ever--when did I jab you with my sword? I never thought of such athing."

  "This moment, sir, you did, and you know you did. My arm is bleedingnow."

  She spoke rapidly in French; but he caught her meaning, and for thefirst became aware of the rapier in his hand. Even then its point wastoward her and very near her breast. He lowered it instantly while thetruth rushed into his mind.

  "Forgive me," he murmured, his words barely audible in the tumult ofwind and rain, but charged with the intensest feeling.

  "Forgive me; I did not know--it was an accident--I could not do such athing purposely. Believe me, believe me, Miss Roussillon. I did notmean it."

  She stood facing him, trying to look right into his eyes. A quality inhis voice had checked her hot anger. She could only see his dimoutlines in the dull gleam from the fort's lantern. He seemed to beforlornly wretched.

  "I should like to believe you," she presently said, "but I cannot. YouEnglish are all, all despicable, mean, vile!"

  She was remembering the young officer who had assaulted her with hissword in the house a while ago. And (what a strange thing the humanbrain is!) she at the same time comforted herself with the furtherthought that Beverley would never, never, be guilty of rudeness to awoman.

  "Some time you shall not say that," Farnsworth responded. "I asked youto stop a moment that I might beg you to believe how wretchedly sorry Iam for what I am doing. But you cannot understand me now. Are youreally hurt, Miss Roussillon? I assure you that it was purelyaccidental."

  "My hurt is nothing," she said.

  "I am very glad."

  "Well, then, shall we go on to the fort?"

  "You may go where you please, Mademoiselle."

  She turned her back upon him and without an answering word walkedstraight to the lantern that hung by the gate of the stockade, where asentinel tramped to and fro. A few moments later Captain Farnsworthpresented her to Hamilton, who had been called from his bed when thenews of the trouble at Roussillon place reached the fort.

  "So you've been raising hell again, have you, Miss?" he growled, withan ugly frown darkening his face.

  "I beg your pardon," said Farnsworth, "Miss Roussillon was not to blamefor--"

  "In your eyes she'd not be to blame, sir, if she burned up the fort andall of us in it," Hamilton gruffly interrupted. "Miss, what have youbeen doing? What are you here for? Captain Farnsworth, you will pleasestate the particulars of the trouble that I have just heard about. AndI may as well notify you that I wish to hear no special lover'spleading in this girl's behalf."

  Farnsworth's face whitened with anger; he bit his lip and a shiver ranthrough his frame; but he had to conquer the passion. In a few words,blunt and direct as musket-balls, he told all the circumstances of whathad taken place, making no concealments to favor Alice, but boldlyblaming the officer of the patrol, Lieutenant Barlow, for losing hishead and attacking a young girl in her own home.

  "I will hear from Barlow," said Hamilton, after listening attentivelyto the story. "But take this girl and confine her. Show her no favors.I hold you responsible for her until to-morrow morning. You can retire."

  There was no room for discussion. Farnsworth saluted and turned toAlice.

  "Come with me," he gently said.

  Hamilton looked after them as they went out of his room, a curioussmile playing around his firmly set lips.

  "She's the most beautiful vixen that I ever saw," he thought. "Shedoesn't look to be a French girl, either--decidedly English." Heshrugged his shoulders, then laughed dryly. "Farnsworth's as crazy ascan be, the beggar; in love with her so deep that he can't see out. ByJove, she IS a beauty! Never saw such eyes. And plucky to beat thedevil. I'll bet my head Barlow'll be daft about her next!"

  Still, notwithstanding the lightness of his inward comments, Hamiltonregarded the incident as rather serious. He knew that the Frenchinhabitants were secretly his bitter enemies, yet probably willing, ifhe would humor their peculiar social, domestic and commercialprejudices, to refrain from active hostilities, and even to aid him infurnishing his garrison with a large amount of needed supplies. Thedanger just now was twofold; his Indian allies were deserting him, anda flotilla loaded with provisions and ammunition from Detroit hadfailed to arrive. He might, if the French rose against him and werejoined by the Indians, have great difficulty defending the fort. It wasclear that M. Roussillon had more influence with both creoles andsavages than any other person save Father Beret. Urgent policy dictatedthat these two men should somehow be won over. But to do this it wouldbe necessary to treat Alice in such a way that her arrest would aid,instead of operating against the desired result,--a thing not easy tomanage.

  Hamilton was not a man of fine scruples, but he may have been, probablywas, better than our American historians have made him appear. Hisbesetting weakness, which, as a matter of course, he re
garded as thehighest flower of efficiency, was an uncontrollable temper, a lack offine human sympathy and an inability to forgive. In his calmestmoments, when prudence appealed to him, he would resolve to usediplomatic means; but no sooner was his opinion questioned or hispurpose opposed than anger and the thirst for revenge overpowered everygentler consideration. He returned to his bed that night fully resolvedupon a pleasant and successful interview with Alice next morning.

  Captain Farnsworth took his fair prisoner straight-way from Hamilton'spresence to a small room connected with a considerable structure in adistant angle of the stockade. Neither he nor Alice spoke on the way.With a huge wooden key he unlocked the door and stepped aside for herto enter. A dim lamp was burning within, its yellowish light flickeringover the scant furniture, which consisted of a comfortable bed, a tablewith some books on it, three chairs, a small looking-glass on the wall,a guitar and some articles of men's clothing hanging here and there. Aheap of dull embers smouldered in the fireplace. Alice did not falterat the threshold, but promptly entered her prison.

  "I hope you can be comfortable," said Farnsworth in a low tone. "It'sthe best I can give you."

  "Thank you," was the answer spoken quite as if he had handed her aglass of water or picked up her handkerchief.

  He held the door a moment, while she stopped, with her back toward him,in the middle of the room; then she heard him close and lock it. Theair was almost too warm after her exposure to the biting wind and colddashes of rain. She cast off her outer wraps and stood by thefireplace. At a glance she comprehended that the place was not the oneshe had formerly occupied as a prisoner, and that it belonged to a man.A long rifle stood in a corner, a bullet-pouch and powder-horn hangingon a projecting hickory ramrod; a heavy fur top-coat lay across one ofthe chairs.

  Alice felt her situation bitterly enough; but she was not of the stuffthat turns to water at the touch of misfortune. Pioneer women tookhardships as a matter of course, and met calamity with admirablefortitude. There was no wringing of hands, no frantic wailing, nohollow, despairing groan. While life lasted hope flourished, even inmost tragic surroundings; and not unfrequently succor came, at the lastverge of destruction, as the fitting reward of unconquerable courage. Agirl like Alice must be accepted in the spirit of her time andsurroundings. She was born amid experiences scarcely credible now, andbred in an area and an atmosphere of incomparable dangers. Naturallyshe accepted conditions of terrible import with a sang froid scarcelypossible to a girl of our day. She did not cry, she did not sink downhelpless when she found herself once more imprisoned with someuncertain trial before her; but simply knelt and repeated the Lord'sprayer, then went to bed and slept; even dreamed the dream of a maid'sfirst love.

  Meantime Farnsworth, who had given Alice his own apartment, took whatrest he could on the cold ground under a leaky shed hard by. His wound,not yet altogether healed, was not benefited by the exposure.

  In due time next morning Hamilton ordered Alice brought to his office,and when she appeared he was smiling with as near an approach toaffability as his disposition would permit. He rose and bowed like acourtier.

  "I hope you rested well, Mademoiselle," he said in his best French. Heimagined that the use of her language would be agreeable to begin with.

  The moment that Alice saw him wearing that shallow veneering ofpleasantness on his never prepossessing visage, she felt a mood ofperversity come over her. She, too, smiled, and he mistook herexpression for one of reciprocal amenity. She noticed that her swordwas on his table.

  "I am sorry, Monsieur, that I cannot say as much to you," she gliblyresponded. "If you lay upon a bed of needles the whole night through,your rest was better than you deserved. My own sleep was quiterefreshing, thank you."

  Instantly Hamilton's choler rose. He tried to suppress it at first; butwhen he saw Alice actually laughing, and Farnsworth (who had broughther in) biting his lip furiously to keep from adding an uproariousguffaw, he lost all hold of himself. He unconsciously picked up therapier and shook it till its blade swished.

  "I might have known better than to expect decency from a wench of yourcharacter," he said. "I hoped to do you a favor; but I see that you arenot capable of accepting kindness politely."

  "I am sure, Monsieur, that I have but spoken the truth plainly to you.You would not have me do otherwise, I hope."

  Her voice, absolutely witching in its softness, freshness and suavity,helped the assault of her eyes, while her dimples twinkled and her hairshone. Hamilton felt his heart move strangely; but he could not forbearsaying in English:

  "If you are so devilish truthful, Miss, you will probably tell me wherethe flag is that you stole and hid."

  It was always the missing banner that came to mind when he saw her.

  "Indeed I will do nothing of the sort," she promptly replied. "When yousee that flag again you will be a prisoner and I will wave it high overyour head."

  She lifted a hand as she spoke and made the motion of shaking a bannerabove him. It was exasperation sweetened almost to delight that tookhold of the sturdy Briton. He liked pluck, especially in a woman; allthe more if she was beautiful. Yet the very fact that he felt her charmfalling upon him set him hard against her, not as Hamilton the man, butas Hamilton the commander at Vincennes.

  "You think to fling yourself upon me as you have upon CaptainFarnsworth," he said, with an insulting leer and in a tone of prurientinnuendo. "I am not susceptible, my dear." This more for Farnsworth'sbenefit than to insult her, albeit he was not in a mood to care.

  "You are a coward and a liar!" she exclaimed, her face flushing withhot shame. "You stand here," she quickly added, turning fiercely uponFarnsworth, "and quietly listen to such words! You, too, are a cowardif you do not make him retract! Oh, you English are low brutes!"

  Hamilton laughed; but Farnsworth looked dark and troubled, his glancegoing back and forth from Alice to his commander, as if another wordwould cause him to do something terrible.

  "I rather think I've heard all that I care to hear from you, Miss,"Hamilton presently said. "Captain Farnsworth, you will see that theprisoner is confined in the proper place, which, I suggest to you, isnot your sleeping quarters, sir."

  "Colonel Hamilton," said Farnsworth in a husky voice, "I slept on theground under a shed last night in order that Miss Roussillon might besomewhat comfortable."

  "Humph! Well, see that you do not do it again. This girl is guilty ofharboring a spy and resisting a lawful attempt of my guards to capturehim. Confine her in the place prepared for prisoners and see that shestays there until I am ready to fix her punishment."

  "There is no place fit for a young girl to stay in," Farnsworthventured. "She can have no comfort or--"

  "Take her along, sir; any place is good enough for her so long as shebehaves like a--"

  "Very well," Farnsworth bluntly interrupted, thus saving Alice thestroke of a vile comparison. "Come with me, please, Miss Roussillon."

  He pulled her toward the door, then dropped the arm he had grasped andmurmured an apology.

  She followed him out, holding her head high. No one looking on wouldhave suspected that a sinking sensation in her heart made it difficultfor her to walk, or that her eyes, shining like stars, were so inwardlyclouded with distress that she saw her way but dimly.

  It was a relief to Hamilton when Helm a few minutes later entered theroom with something breezy to say.

  "What's up now, if I may ask?" the jolly American demanded. "What'sthis I hear about trouble with the French women? Have they begun arevolution?"

  "That elephant, Gaspard Roussillon, came back into town last night,"said Hamilton sulkily.

  "Well, he went out again, didn't he?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "Stepped on somebody's toe first, eh?"

  "The guard tried to capture him, and that girl of his woundedLieutenant Barlow in the neck with a sword. Roussillon fought like atiger and the men swear that the devil himself appeared on the scene tohelp the Frenchman out."

  "Moral:
Be generous in your dealings with Frenchmen and Frenchwomen andso get the devil on your side."

  "I've got the girl a prisoner, and I swear to you that I'll have hershot this time if--"

  "Why not shoot her yourself? You oughtn't to shirk a dirty job likethat and force it upon your men."

  Hamilton laughed and elevated his shoulders as if to shake off anannoying load. Just then a young officer with a white bandage aroundhis neck entered and saluted. He was a small, soft-haired, blue-eyedman of reckless bearing, with marks of dissipation sharply cut into hisface. He saluted, smiling self-consciously.

  "Well, Barlow," said Hamilton, "the kitten scratched you, did she?"

  "Yes, slightly, and I don't think I've been treated fairly in thematter, sir."

  "How so?"

  "I stood the brunt and now Captain Farnsworth gets the prize." Hetwisted his mouth in mock expression of maudlin disappointment. "I'malways cheated out of the sweets. I never get anything for gallantconduct on the field."

  "Poor boy! It is a shame. But I say, Lieutenant, has Roussillon reallyescaped, or is he hidden somewhere in town? Have you been careful?"

  "Oh, it's the Indians. They all swear by these Frenchmen. You can't getany help from them against a fellow like Roussillon. In fact they aidhim; he's among them now."

  "Moral again," Helm interposed; "keep on the good side of the French!"

  "That's sensible talk, sir," assented Barlow.

  "Bah!" exclaimed Hamilton. "You might as well talk of keeping on thegood side of the American traitors--a bloody murrain seize the wholerace!"

  "That's what I say," chimed in the Lieutenant, with a sly look at Helm.

  "They have been telling me a cock-and-bull story concerning the affairat the Roussillon cabin," Hamilton said, changing his manner. "What isthis about a disguised and wonderful man who rushed in and upset thewhole of you. I want no romancing; give me the facts."

  Barlow's dissolute countenance became troubled.

  "The facts," he said, speaking with serious deliberation, "are notclear. It was like a clap of thunder, the way that man performed. Asyou say, he did fling the whole squad all of a heap, and it was donethat quickly," he snapped his thumb and finger demonstratively with asharp report; "nobody could understand it."

  Hamilton looked at his subaltern with a smile of unlimited contempt andsaid:

  "A pretty officer of His Majesty's army, you are, Lieutenant Barlow!First a slip of a girl shows herself your superior with the sword andwounds you, then a single man wipes up the floor of a house with youand your guard, depriving you at the same time of both vision andmemory, so that you cannot even describe your assailant!"

  "He was dressed like a priest," muttered Barlow, evidently frightenedat his commander's scathing comment. "That was all there was to see."

  "A priest! Some of the men say the devil. I wonder--" Hamiltonhesitated and looked at the floor.

  "This Father Beret, he is too old for such a thing, isn't he?"

  "I have thought of him--it was like him--but he is, as you say, veryold to be so tremendously strong and active. Why, I tell you that menwent from his hands against the walls and floor as if shot out of amortar. It was the strangest and most astounding thing I ever heard of."

  A little later Barlow seized a favorable opportunity and withdrew. Theconversation was not to his liking.

  Hamilton sent for Father Beret and had a long talk with him, but theold man looked so childishly inoffensive in spirit and so collapsedphysically that it seemed worse than foolishness to accuse him of theexploit over which the entire garrison was wondering. Farnsworth sat byduring the interview. He looked the good priest curiously andcritically over from head to foot, remembering, but not mentioning, themost unclerical punch in the side received from that energetic rightarm now lying so flabbily across the old man's lap.

  When the talk ended and Father Beret humbly took his leave, Hamiltonturned to Farnsworth and said:

  "What do you think of this affair? I have cross-questioned all the menwho took part in it, and every one of them says simply priest or devil.I think old Beret is both; but plainly he couldn't hurt a chicken, youcan see that at a glance."

  Farnsworth smiled, rubbing his side reminiscently; but he shook hishead.

  "I'm sure it's puzzling, indeed."

  Hamilton sat in thoughtful silence for a while, then abruptly changedthe subject.

  "I think, Captain, that you had better send out Lieutenant Barlow andsome of the best woodsmen to kill some game. We need fresh venison,and, by George! I'm not going to depend upon these French traitors anylonger. I have set my foot down; they've got to do better or take theconsequences." He paused for a breath, then added: "That girl has donetoo much to escape severest punishment. The garrison will bedemoralized if this thing goes on without an example of authorityrigidly enforced. I am resolved that there shall be a startling andeffective public display of my power to punish. She shot you; you seemto be glad of it, but it was a grave offence. She has stabbed Barlow;that is another serious crime; but worst of all she aided a spy andresisted arrest. She must be punished."

  Farnsworth knew Hamilton's nature, and he now saw that Alice was indreadful danger of death or something even worse. Whenever his chieftalked of discipline and the need of maintaining his authority, therewas little hope of softening his decisions. Moreover, the provocationto apply extreme measures really seemed sufficient, regarded from amilitary point of view, and Captain Farnsworth was himself, underordinary circumstances, a disciplinarian of the strictest class. Thefascination, however, by which Alice held him overbore every otherinfluence, and his devotion to her loosened every other tie andobligation to a most dangerous extent. No sooner had he leftheadquarters and given Barlow his instructions touching the huntingexpedition, than his mind began to wander amid visions and schemes byno means consistent with his military obligations. In order to reflectundisturbed he went forth into the dreary, lane-like streets ofVincennes and walked aimlessly here and there until he met Father Beret.

  Farnsworth saluted the old man, and was passing him by, when seeing asword in his hand, half hidden in the folds of his worn and fadedcassock, he turned and addressed him.

  "Why are you armed this morning, Father?" he demanded very pleasantly."Who is to suffer now?"

  "I am not on the war-path, my son," replied the priest. "It is but arapier that I am going to clean of rust spots that are gathering on itsblade."

  "Is it yours, Father? Let me see it." He held out his hand.

  "No, not mine."

  Father Beret seemed not to notice Farnsworth's desire to handle theweapon, and the young man, instead of repeating his words, reachedfarther, nearly grasping the scabbard.

  "I cannot let you take it, my son," said Father Beret "You have itsmate, that should satisfy you."

  "No, Colonel Hamilton took it," Farnsworth quickly replied. "If I couldI would gladly return it to its owner. I am not a thief, Father, and Iam ashamed of--of--what I did when I was drunk."

  The priest looked sharply into Farnsworth's eyes and read theresomething that reassured him. His long experience had rendered himadept at taking a man's value at a glance. He slightly lifted his faceand said: "Ah, but the poor little girl! why do you persecute her? Shereally does not deserve it. She is a noble child. Give her back to herhome and her people. Do not soil and spoil her sweet life."

  It was the sing-song voice used by Father Beret in his sermons andprayers; but something went with it indescribably touching. Farnsworthfelt a lump rise in his throat and his eyes were ready to show tears."Father," he said, with difficulty making his words distinct, "I wouldnot harm Miss Roussillon to save my own life, and I would doanything--" he paused slightly, then added with passionate force; "Iwould do anything, no matter what, to save her from the terrible thingthat now threatens her."

  Father Beret's countenance changed curiously as he gazed at the youngman and said:

  "If you really mean what you say, you can easily save her, my son."

&n
bsp; "Father, by all that is holy, I mean just what I say."

  "Swear not at all, my son, but give me your hand."

  The two men stood with a tight grip between them and exchanged a long,steady, searching gaze.

  A drizzling rain had begun to fall again, with a raw wind creeping fromthe west.

  "Come with me to my house, my son," Father Beret presently added; andtogether they went, the priest covering Alice's sword from the rainwith the folds of his cassock.