Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune
Page 40
CHAPTER XL. THE CHATEAU OF ETTENHEIM
I now come to an incident in my life, which, however briefly I mayspeak, has left the deepest impression on my memory. I have told thereader how I left Kuffstein fully satisfied that the Count de Marsannewas Laura's lover, and that in keeping my promise to see and speak withhim, I was about to furnish an instance of self-denial and fidelity thatnothing in ancient or modern days could compete with.
The letter was addressed, 'The Count Louis de Marsanne, Chateaud'Ettenheim, a Baden,' and thither I accordingly repaired, travellingover the Arlberg to Bregenz, and across the Lake of Constance toFreyburg; my passport containing a very few words in cipher, whichalways sufficed to afford me free transit and every attention from theauthorities. I had left the southern Tyrol in the outburst of a gloriousspring, but as I journeyed northward I found the rivers frozen, theroads encumbered with snow, and the fields untilled and dreary-looking.Like all countries which derive their charms from the elements of ruralbeauty, foliage and verdure, Germany offers a sad coloured picture tothe traveller in winter or wintry weather.
It was thus, then, that the Grand-Duchy, so celebrated for itspicturesque beauty, struck me as a scene of dreary and desolatewildness, an impression which continued to increase with every mile Itravelled from the highroad.
A long unbroken flat, intersected here and there by stunted willows,traversed by a narrow earth road, lay between the Rhine and the TaunusMountains, in the midst of which stood the village of 'Ettenheim.'Outside the village, about half a mile off, and on the border of a vastpine forest, stood the chateau.
It was originally a hunting-seat of the Dukes of Baden, but fromneglect, and disuse, gradually fell into ruin, from which it wasreclaimed, imperfectly enough, a year before, and now exhibited someremnants of its former taste, along with the evidences of a far lessdecorative spirit; the lower rooms being arranged as a stable, while thestair and entrance to the first storey opened from a roomy coach-house.Here some four or five conveyances of rude construction were gatheredtogether, splashed and unwashed, as if from recent use; and at a smallstove in a corner was seated a peasant in a blue frock, smoking as heaffected to clean a bridle which he held before him.
Without rising from his seat he saluted me, with true German phlegm, andgave me the 'Guten Tag,' with all the grave unconcern of a 'Badener.' Iasked if the Count de Marsanne lived there. He said yes, but the 'Graf'was out hunting. When would he be back? By nightfall.
Could I remain there till his return? was my next question; and hestared at me as I put it, with some surprise. 'Warum nicht?' 'Why not?'was at last his sententious answer, as he made way for me beside thestove. I saw at once that my appearance had evidently not entitled me toany peculiar degree of deference or respect, and that the man regardedme as his equal. It was true I had come some miles on foot, and with aknapsack on my shoulder, so that the peasant was fully warranted in hisreception of me. I accordingly seated myself at his side, and lightingmy pipe from his, proceeded to derive all the profit I could fromdrawing him into conversation. I might have spared myself the trouble.Whether the source lay in stupidity or sharpness, he evaded me on everypoint. Not a single particle of information could I obtain about thecount, his habits, or his history. He would not even tell me how long hehad resided there, nor whence he had come. He liked hunting, and so didthe other 'Herren.' There was the whole I could scan; and to the simplefact that there were others with him, did I find myself limited.
Curious to see something of the count's 'interior,' I hinted to mycompanion that I had come on purpose to visit his master, and suggestedthe propriety of my awaiting his arrival in a more suitable place; buthe turned a deaf ear to the hint, and dryly remarked that the 'Grafwould not be long a-coming now.' This prediction was, however, not tobe verified; the dreary hours of the dull day stole heavily on, andalthough I tried to beguile the time by lounging about the place,the cold ungenial weather drove me back to the stove, or to the darkprecinct of the stable, tenanted by three coarse ponies of the mountainbreed.
One of these was the Grafs favourite, the peasant told me; and indeedhere he showed some disposition to become communicative, narratingvarious gifts and qualities of the unseemly looking animal, which, inhis eyes, was a paragon of horse-flesh. 'He could travel from here toKehl and back in a day, and has often done it,' was one meed of praisethat he bestowed; a fact which impressed me more as regarded the riderthan the beast, and set my curiosity at work to think why any man shouldundertake a journey of nigh seventy miles between two such places andwith such speed. The problem served to occupy me till dark, and I knownot how long after. A stormy night of rain and wind set in, and thepeasant, having bedded and foraged his cattle, lighted a rickety oldlantern and began to prepare for bed; for such I at last saw was themeaning of a long crib, like a coffin, half filled with straw andsheep-skins. A coarse loaf of black bread, some black forest cheese, anda flask of Kleinthaler, a most candid imitation of vinegar, made theirappearance from a cupboard, and I did not disdain to partake of thesedelicacies.
My host showed no disposition to become more communicative over hiswine, and, indeed, the liquor might have excused any degree of reserve;and no sooner was our meal over than, drawing a great woollen cap halfover his face, he rolled himself up in his sheep-skins, and betookhimself to sleep, if not with a good conscience, at least with a sturdyvolition that served just as well.
Occasionally snatching a short slumber, or walking to and fro in theroomy chamber, I passed several hours, when the splashing sound ofhorses' feet, advancing up the miry road, attracted me. Several timesbefore that I had been deceived by noises which turned out to be theeffects of storm, but now, as I listened, I thought I could hear voices.I opened the door, but all was dark outside; it was the inky hour beforedaybreak, when all is wrapped in deepest gloom. The rain, too, wassweeping along the ground in torrents. The sounds came nearer everyinstant, and, at last, a deep voice shouted out, 'Jacob.' Before Icould awaken the sleeping peasant, to whom I judged this summons wasaddressed, a horseman dashed up to the door and rode in; another asquickly followed him, and closed the door.
'_Parbleu!_ D'Egville,' said the first who entered, 'we have got a rarepeppering!'
'Even so,' said the other, as he shook his hat, and threw off a cloakperfectly soaked with rain; '_a la guerre comme a la guerre_.'
This was said in French, when, turning towards me, the former said inGerman, 'Be active, Master Jacob; these nags have had a smart rideof it.' Then, suddenly, as the light flashed full on my features, hestarted back, and said, 'How is this--who are you?'
A very brief explanation answered this somewhat un-courteous question,and, at the same time, I placed the marquise's letter in his hand,saying, 'The Count de Marsanne, I presume.'
He took it hastily, and drew nigh to the lantern to peruse it. I had nowfull time to observe him, and saw that he was a tall and well-builtman, of about seven or eight-and-twenty. His features were remarkablyhandsome, and although slightly flushed by his late exertion, wereas calm and composed as might be; a short black moustache gave hisupper-lip a slight character of 'scorn, but the brow, open, frank andgood-tempered in its expression, redeemed this amply. He had not readmany lines when, turning about, he apologised in the most courteousterms for the manner of my reception. He had been on a shootingexcursion for a few days back, and taken all his people with him, savethe peasant, who looked after the cattle. Then, introducing me to hisfriend, whom he called Count d'Egville, he led the way upstairs.
It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast to the dark anddreary coach-house than the comfortable suite of apartments which we nowtraversed on our way to a large, well-furnished room, where a table waslaid for supper, and a huge wood fire blazed brightly on the hearth. Avalet, of most respectful manner, received the count's orders to preparea room for me, after which my host and his friend retired to changetheir clothes.
Although D'Egville was many years older, and of a graver, sternerfashion than the other, I cou
ld detect a degree of deference and respectin his manner towards him, which De Marsanne accepted like one wellaccustomed to receive it. It was a time, however, when, in the wreckof fortune, so many men lived in a position of mere dependence, that Ithought nothing of this, nor had I even the time, as Count de Marsanneentered. From my own preconceived notions as to his being Laura's lover,I was quite prepared to answer a hundred impatient inquiries about themarquise and her niece, and as we were now alone, I judged that he woulddeem the time a favourable one to talk of them. What was my surprise,however, when he turned the conversation exclusively to the topic of myown journey, the route I had travelled. He knew the country perfectly,and spoke of the various towns and their inhabitants with acuteness andtact.
His Royalist leanings did not, like those of the marquise, debar himfrom feeling a strong interest respecting the success of the Republicantroops, with whose leaders he was thoroughly acquainted, knowing alltheir peculiar excellences and defaults as though he had lived inintimacy with them. Of Bonaparte's genius he was the most enrapturedadmirer, and would not hear of any comparison between him and the othergreat captains of the day. D'Egville at last made his appearance, andwe sat down to an excellent supper, enlivened by the conversation of ourhost, who, whatever the theme, talked well and pleasingly.
I was in a mood to look for flaws in his character--my jealousy wasstill urging me to seek for whatever I could find fault with; and yetall my critical shrewdness could only detect a slight degree of pride inhis manner, not displaying itself by any presumption, but by a certainurbanity that smacked of condescension. But even this at last went off,and before I wished him good-night I felt that I had never met any oneso gifted with agreeable qualities, nor possessed of such captivatingmanners, as himself. Even his Royalism had its fascinations, for it waseminently national, and showed at every moment that he was far more ofa Frenchman than a Monarchist. We parted without one word of allusion tothe marquise or to Laura! Had this singular fact any influence upon thefavourable impression I had conceived of him, or was I unconsciouslygrateful for the relief thus given to all my jealous tormentings?Certain is it that I felt infinitely happier than I ever fancied Ishould be under his roof, and, as I lay down in my bed, thanked my starsthat he was not my rival!
When I awoke the next morning it was some minutes before I couldremember where I was; and as I still lay, gradually recalling myself tomemory, the valet entered to announce the count.
'I have come to say adieu for a few hours,' said he; a very pressingappointment requires me to be at Pforzheim to-day, and I have to askthat you will excuse my absence. I know that I may take this libertywithout any appearance of rudeness, for the marquise has told me allabout you. Pray, then, try and amuse yourself till evening, and we shallmeet at supper.'
I was not sorry that D'Egville was to accompany him, and, turning onmy side, dozed off to sleep away some of the gloomy hours of a winter'sday.
In this manner several days were passed, the count absenting himselfeach morning, and returning at nightfall, sometimes accompanied byD'Egville, sometimes alone. It was evident enough, from the appearanceof his horses at his return, as well as from his own jaded looks, thathe had ridden hard and far; but except a chance allusion to the stateof the roads or the weather, it was a topic to which he never referred,nor, of course, did I ever advert. Meanwhile our intimacy grew closerand franker. The theme of politics, a forbidden subject between men soseparated, was constantly discussed between us, and I could not helpfeeling flattered at the deference with which he listened to opinionsfrom one so much his junior, and so inferior in knowledge as myself.Nothing could be more moderate than his views of government, onlyprovided that it was administered by the rightful sovereign. The claimof a king to his throne he declared to be the foundation of all therights of property, and which, if once shaken or disputed, wouldinevitably lead to the wildest theories of democratic equality. 'I don'twant to convert you,' would he say laughingly; 'the son of an old "Gardeda Corps," the born gentleman, has but to live to learn. It may come alittle later or a little earlier, but you'll end as a good Monarchist.'
One evening he was unusually late in returning, and when he came wasaccompanied by seven or eight companions, some younger, some older, thanhimself, but all men whose air and bearing bespoke their rank in life,while their names recalled the thoughts of old French chivalry. Iremember among them was a Coigny, a Gramont, and Rochefoucauld--the lastas lively a specimen of Parisian wit and brilliancy as ever flutteredalong the sunny Boulevards.
De Marsanne, while endeavouring to enjoy himself and entertain hisguests, was, to my thinking, more serious than usual, and seemedimpatient at D'Egville's absence, for whose coming we now waited supper.
'I should not wonder if he was lost in the deep mud of thosecross-roads,' said Coigny.
'Or perhaps he has fallen into the Republic,' said Rochefoucauld; 'it'sthe only thing dirtier that I know of.'
'Monsieur forgets that I wear its cloth,' said I, in a low whisper tohim; and low as it was, De Marsanne overheard it.
'Yes, Charles,' cried he, 'you must apologise, and on the spot, for therudeness.'
Rochefoucauld reddened and hesitated.
'I insist, sir,' cried De Marsanne, with a tone of superiority I hadnever seen him assume before.
'Perhaps,' said he, with a half-sneer, 'Monsieur de Tiernay might refuseto accept my excuses.'
'In that case, sir,' interposed De Marsanne, 'the quarrel will becomemine, for he is my guest, and lives here under the safeguard of myhonour.'
Rochefoucauld bowed submissively, and with the air of a man severely butjustly rebuked; and then advancing to me said, 'I beg to tender youmy apology, monsieur, for an expression which should never have beenuttered by me in your presence.'
'Quite sufficient, sir,' said I, bowing, and anxious to conclude a scenewhich for the first time had disturbed the harmony of our meetings.Slight as was the incident, its effects were yet visible in thedisconcerted looks of the party, and I could see that more than oneglance was directed towards me with an expression of coldness anddistrust.
'Here comes D'Egville at last,' said one, throwing open the windowto listen. The night was starlit, but dark, and the air calm andmotionless. 'I certainly heard a horses tread on the causeway.'
'I hear distinctly the sound of several,' cried Coigny; 'and, if Imistake not much, so does Monsieur de Tiernay.' This sudden allusionturned every eye towards me, as I stood still, suffering from theconfusion of the late scene.
'Yes; I hear the tramp of horses, and cavalry too, I should say, bytheir measured tread.'
'There was a trumpet-call!' cried Coigny; 'what does that mean?'
'It is the signal to take open order,' said I, answering as ifthe question were addressed to myself. 'It is a picket taking areconnaissance.'
'How do you know that, sir?' said Gramont sternly.
'Ay! how does he know that?' cried several passionately, as they closedaround me.
'You must ask in another tone, messieurs,' said I calmly, 'if you expectto be answered.'
'They mean to say, how do you happen to know the German trumpet-calls,Tiernay,' said De Marsanne mildly, as he laid his hand on my arm.
'It's a French signal,' said I; 'I ought to know it well.'
Before my words were well uttered the door was thrown open, andD'Egville burst into the room, pale as death, his clothes allmud-stained and disordered. Making his way through the others, hewhispered a few words in De Marsanne's ear.
'Impossible!' cried the other; 'we are here in the territory of theMargrave.'
'It is as I say,' replied D'Egville; 'there's not a second to lose--itmay be too late even now--by Heavens it is!--they've drawn a cordonround the chateau.'
'What's to be done, gentlemen?' said De Marsanne, seating himselfcalmly, and crossing his arms on his breast.
'What do you say, sir?' cried Gramont, advancing to me with an airof insolent menace; 'you, at least, ought to know the way out of thisdifficulty.'
'This is unworthy of you, gentlemen, and of me,' said De Marsannehaughtily; and he gazed around him with a look that seemed to abashthem; 'nor is it a time to hold such disputation. There is another anda very difficult call to answer. Are we agreed?' Before he could finishthe sentence the door was burst open, and several dragoons in Frenchuniforms entered, and ranged themselves across the entrance, while acolonel, with his sabre drawn, advanced in front of them.
'This is brigandage,' cried De Marsanne passionately, as he drewhis sword, and seemed meditating a spring through them; but he wasimmediately surrounded by his friends and disarmed. Indeed nothingcould be more hopeless than resistance; more than double our number werealready in the room, while the hoarse murmur of voices without, and thetramp of heavy feet, announced a strong party.
At a signal from their officers the dragoons unslung their carbines,and held them at the cock, when the colonel called out, 'Which of you,messieurs, is the Due d'Enghien?'
'If you come to arrest him,' replied De Marsanne, * you ought to havehis description in your warrant.'
'Is the descendant of a Conde ashamed to own his name?' asked thecolonel, with a sneer. 'But we 'll make short work of it, sirs; I arrestyou all My orders are peremptory, messieurs. If you resist, or attemptto escape--' and he made a significant sign with his hand to finish. The'Duc'---for I need no longer call him De Marsanne--never spoke a word,but with folded arms calmly walked forward, followed by his littlehousehold. As we descended the stairs, we found ourselves in the midstof about thirty dismounted dragoons, all on the alert, and prepared forany resistance. The remainder of a squadron were on horseback without.With a file of soldiers on either hand, we marched for about a quarterof a mile across the fields to a small mill, where a general officer andhis staff seemed awaiting our arrival. Here, too, a picket of gendarmeswas stationed--a character of force significant enough of the meaningof the enterprise. We were hurriedly marched into the court of the mill,the owner of which stood between two soldiers, trembling from head tofoot with terror.
'Which is the Duc d'Enghien?' asked the colonel of the miller.
'That is he with the scarlet vest'; and the prince nodded an assent.
'Your age, monsieur?' asked the colonel of the prince.
'Thirty-two--that is, I should have been so much in August, were it notfor this visit,' said he, smiling.
The colonel wrote on rapidly for a few minutes, and then showed thepaper to the general, who briefly said, 'Yes, yes; this does not concernyou nor me.'
'I wish to ask, sir,' said the prince, addressing the general, 'do youmake this arrest with the consent of the authorities of this country, ordo you do so in defiance of them?'
'You must reserve questions like that for the court who will judgeyou, Monsieur de Conde,' said the officer roughly. 'If you wish for anyarticles of dress from your quarters, you had better think of them. Myorders are to convey you to Strasbourg. Is there anything so singular inthe fact, sir, that you should look so much astonished?'
'There is, indeed,' said the prince sorrowfully. 'I shall be the firstof my house who ever crossed that frontier a prisoner.'
'But not the first who carried arms against his country,' rejoined theother--a taunt the duke only replied to by a look of infinite scornand contempt. With a speed that told plainly the character of theexpedition, we were now placed, two together, on country cars, anddriven at a rapid pace towards Strasbourg. Relays of cattle awaited uson the road, and we never halted but for a few minutes during the entirejourney. My companion on this dreary day was the Baron de St. Jacques,the aide-de-camp to the duke; but he never spoke once; indeed hescarcely lifted his head during the whole journey.
Heaven knows it was a melancholy journey; and neither the country northe season were such as to lift the mind from sorrow; and yet, strangeenough, the miles glided over rapidly, and to this hour I cannotremember by what magic the way seemed so short. The thought thatfor several days back I had been living in closest intimacy with adistinguished prince of the Bourbon family; that we had spent hourstogether discussing themes and questions which were those of his ownhouse, canvassing the chances and weighing the claims of which he washimself the asserter--was a most exciting feeling. How I recalled nowall the modest deference of his manner--his patient endurance of mycrude opinions--his generous admissions regarding his adversaries--and,above all, his ardent devotion to France, whatever the hand that swayedher destinies; and then the chivalrous boldness of his character,blended with an almost girlish gentleness-how princely were such traits!
From these thoughts I wandered on to others about his arrest andcapture, from which, however, I could not believe any serious issue wasto come. Bonaparte is too noble-minded not to feel the value of sucha life as this. Men like the prince can be more heavily fettered bygenerous treatment than by all the chains that ever bound a felon. Butwhat will be done with him? what with his followers? and lastly, not atall the pleasantest consideration, what is to come of Maurice Tiernay,who, to say the least, has been found in very suspicious company, andwithout a shadow of an explanation to account for it? This last thoughtjust occurred to me as we crossed over the long bridge of boats, andentered Strasbourg.