THE GALIOTE OF ST. CLOUD.
"To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those
things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets. There is no
slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no
railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but
reprove."--_Twelfth Night._
"So," resumed Ribeaupierre, "this was the way in which I became one
of the 24th Chasseurs à Cheval, in the service of the Republic one
and indivisible, as it boasted to be, as well as democratic and
social; and how I now find myself a sous-lieutenant, under the
Emperor, whom God long preserve!"
"And Lisette?----"
"Bah! in my absence I found that she had taken to study poetry with
M. Grobbin, a grenadier of the Consular Guard, the same who was the
cause of the First Consul issuing his remarkable order of the day,
concerning that Parisian weakness for destroying oneself, in the
passion named love. Did you never hear of it?"
"No."
"Ma foi! You English know nothing that is acted out of your foggy
little island."
"And this order----"
"Stated that as the Grenadier Grobbin had destroyed himself in
despair, for his dismissal by Madame de Thiebault, the First Consul
directed that it should be inserted in the order of the day for the
Consular Guard, 'that a soldier ought to know how to subdue sorrow
and the agitation of the passions; that there is as much courage in
enduring with firmness the pains of the heart as remaining steady
under the grape-shot of a battery; and to abandon oneself to grief
without resistance, to kill oneself in order to escape from it, is to
fly from the field of battle before one is conquered!' The order was
signed by Bonaparte, as First Consul, and countersigned by Jean
Baptiste Bessières."
"Have you ever seen the Emperor?" asked Quentin.
"Once, mon ami--only once."
"In the field?"
"No; but nearer than I ever wish to see him again, under the same
circumstances at least. Shall I tell you how it was?"
"If you please."
"Well, monsieur, it happened in this way. I had just been appointed
a sous-lieutenant in the 24th Chasseurs à Cheval; we had returned
from service in Italy, and were quartered at St. Cloud, where we were
soon tired of the gardens, cafés, waterworks, and so forth. A few of
us had been on leave in Paris for some days, where our spare cash and
prize money were soon spent among the theatres, operas, feasting, and
other means of emptying one's purse, so we were returning cheaply to
barracks by the galiote, which then used to traverse the great bend
of the Seine every morning, leaving the Pont Royal about ten o'clock
for St. Cloud; the voyage usually lasted about two hours, and cost us
only sixteen sous each.
"On this occasion, as the morning was very wet, the canvas covering
was drawn close, and as we had the galiote all to ourselves--save one
person, a stranger--we were very merry, very noisy, and very much at
home indeed, proceeding to smoke without the ceremony of asking this
person's permission, for which, indeed, we cared very little, as he
appeared to be a plain little citizen some five feet high, about
thirty-six years of age, and possessing a very sombre cast of face,
over which he wore a rather shabby hat drawn well down, a grey
greatcoat with a queer cape, and long boots; and he appeared to be
completely immersed in the columns of his newspaper.
"We were conversing with great freedom concerning the consulate,
which was just on the point of expanding into an empire, and our
senior lieutenant, Jules de Marbœuf (now our lieutenant-colonel)
was named by us 'Monseigneur le Maréchal Duc de Marbœuf, and
master of the horse to Pepin le Bref.' Then we ridiculed
unmercifully the proposal of the Tribune Citizen Curée, that the
First Consul should be proclaimed Emperor, and in this quality
continue the government of the French _Republic_.
"'Peste! what a paradox it is!' exclaimed Jules, emitting a mighty
puff of smoke, as he lounged at length upon the cushioned seat of the
galiote.
"'And the Imperial dignity is to be declared hereditary in his
family,' I added, impudently, reclosing one of the openings in the
awning, which the quiet stranger had opened, as our smoking evidently
annoyed him.
"'In three days _the pear will be ripe_; France will become an
appanage of Corsica, and I shall obtain my diploma as peer and
marshal of France,' exclaimed Jules with loud voice; 'and you,
Eugene----'
"'Oh, I shall be Minister of War to the Little Corporal.'
"'Bravo!' said the others, clapping their hands; 'we shall all pick
up something among the ruins of this vulgar and tiresome Republic.'
"'M. le Citoyen,' said Jules, with affected courtesy, 'I perceive the
smoke annoys you--you don't like it--eh?'
"'No, monsieur,' replied the other briefly and sternly.
"'Then M. le Citoyen had better land, for before we reach St. Cloud,
he will be smoked like a Westphalian ham.'
"'Take care, Jules,' said I, 'the citizen may be a fire-eater--some
devil of a fellow who spends half his days in a shooting gallery.'
"'_Parbleu_, he doesn't look much like a fire-eater; but perhaps
monsieur is an editor--an author?' suggested Jules, with another long
puff.
"'Exactly,' said I; 'he is an author.'
"'Of what?'
"'The famous _Voyage à Saint Cloud par mer, et retour par terre_,
taking notes for a new edition.'
"This sally produced a roar of laughter, on which the citizen
suddenly folded his paper and prepared to rise, as we were now close
to St. Cloud.
"'Don't forget to record, M. l'Editeur, that last week I pulled a
charming young girl out of the river close by.'
"'Trust you didn't pull her hair up by the roots, Jules,' said one.
"'Or rumple her dress?' said another.
"'Fie!' I exclaimed; 'but you will give us each a copy, M. l'Editeur?'
"'On receiving your cards, messieurs,' replied the other with a grim
smile.
"'Here is mine--and mine--and mine,' said we, thrusting them upon him.
"'And here is mine' said he, presenting to Jules an embossed card, on
which was engraved 'Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul.'
"We remained as if paralysed, unable either to speak or move; but the
justly incensed First Consul, after quitting the galiote, which was
now moored alongside the quay, said to a gentleman whose uniform
proclaimed him a general officer, and who seemed to be waiting
there,--
"'Bessières, take the swords of these gentlemen, who are to be placed
under close arrest, and send the colonel of the 24th Chasseurs to me
instantly.'
"His massive features were pale as marble; his keen dark eyes shot
forth a lurid glare; his lips were compressed with concealed fury,
and we all trembled before the terrible glance of this little man in
long boots. Ah, mon Dieu! what a moment it was! How foolish, how
triste, how crestfallen we all looked.
"'Your name, monsieur?' said he suddenly to me.
"'Eugene de Ribeaupierre,' said I, with a profound salute.
"'Any relation to the officer who bears that name, and who was
captain-lieutenant in the Regiment de La Fere?'
"'I am his only son, monseigneur.'
"'That reply has saved you and your companions from degradation and
imprisonment; but still you must be taught, messieurs, that to
protect, and not to insult the citizen, is the first duty of a
soldier. To your quarters, messieurs, and report yourselves under
arrest until further orders!'
"The authoritative wave of his hand was enough, and we slunk away
with terrible forebodings of the future. A severe reprimand was
administered through Bessières; but whether it was that our political
opinions had been uttered too freely, or that the First Consul had no
wish to see the 24th figure in the forthcoming pageant of his
coronation as Emperor, I know not, but on the day following our
precious voyage to St. Cloud, we got the route for Genoa, so that was
my first and last meeting with our glorious Emperor, whose name I
have made a _cri de guerre_ in many a battle and skirmish, and for
whom I am ready to die!" he added, with genuine enthusiasm. "Sunset!
there goes the gun in Valencia," he exclaimed, as the boom of a
cannon pealed through the still air. "The evening is advancing,
monsieur, and we must part, unless you will accompany me to Valencia."
"Impossible!" said Quentin.
"I will gage my word of honour for your safety there and safe-conduct
to the mountains," said he, as they issued cautiously from the
thicket upon the highway.
"I thank you, but I am most anxious to complete my task."
"_Tres bien_--so be it; then we part at yonder cypress-tree. Hola!
what have we here--a dead horse--the charger of one of my men?"
exclaimed Ribeaupierre, as they came suddenly upon a cavalry-horse
lying dead, with all his housings and trappings on, by the wayside.
"It is the horse of Corporal Raoul, one of the three men who fell in
the ambuscade--several bullets have struck the poor nag, and it has
galloped here only to bleed to death. Raoul was a devil of a fellow
for plunder; I know that he always carried something else than
pistols in his holsters--let us see."
Unbuttoning the flaps of the holsters, Ribeaupierre drew forth a
pistol from each, and these, as they were loaded, he retained; but at
the bottom of one holster-pipe he found a canvas bag. "Parbleu, look
here! Raoul, poor devil, thought no doubt to spend these among the
girls in Paris. Plunder, every sou of it," he added, tumbling among
the grass a heap of gold moidores, which are Portuguese coins, each
worth twenty-seven shillings sterling. "This is Raoul's share of the
sacking of Coimbra, which the Portuguese permitted themselves to make
such a hideous bawling about. It was the plunder of the living, so
you may as well have a share of it _now_ that it is the spoil of the
dead."
"Who--I?" said Quentin, hesitating.
"Take it--_ma foi!_"
"Can I do so?"
"I should think so; what--would you leave it here to fall into
Spanish hands, or be buried with a dead horse?" said Ribeaupierre, as
he rapidly divided the money, which amounted to one hundred and sixty
pieces in all. "'Tis eighty moidores each; a sum like that is not to
be found often by the wayside."
He almost thrust his share into Quentin's pocket, and a few minutes
after, they bade each other warmly adieu, with little expectation of
ever meeting again.
Ribeaupierre pursued his way towards Valencia de Alcantara, while,
following his direction, Quentin proceeded towards the hills near
Herreruela, the rocky peaks of which were yet gleaming in crimson
light, though the sun had set.
He seemed still to hear the pleasant voice, and to see the dark and
expressive face of his recent companion as he trod lightly on,
clinking his moidores, happy that he was now master of a sum
amounting to more than a hundred pounds sterling, which would enable
him to repay his dear old friend the quartermaster, and would amply
supply his own wants while on service, for some time at least.
It was a remarkable stroke of good fortune, and he reflected that but
for his meeting with Ribeaupierre, he might have passed without
examining the dead troop-horse that lay by the wayside; he reflected
further, that but for the turn taken happily by the episodes of the
day, he might have fallen into the hands of a French patrol, and been
now, with his despatch, in safe keeping within the walls of Valencia.