HUSSARS AGAIN.
Evening had come on before I was awake, and, on looking upward, saw
above me the green leafy branches of some great trees. Then, on
peeping from my nest amid the straw, I found, to my very great
astonishment, that the wain was not in the same place where I had
entered it, but that it was now at the end of a long and stately
avenue, and close to an embattled wall, in which there opened an
arched gateway surmounted by a coat of arms carved in stone.
I was about to investigate this circumstance further, when the sound
of voices near me, or apparently immediately under the huge wain,
made me shrink down and lie still and breathless to listen.
"Come, come, _mon ami_, don't lose your temper, for I assure you that
you have none to spare," said a female voice.
"Bah! you always laugh when I kiss you, Angelique," replied a man,
reproachfully; "why is this?"
"Because, Jacquot, your moustaches tickle me."
"You are always rather too ticklish between the nose and chin,"
retorted the other.
"Perhaps so, when Monsieur de Boisguiller and his hussars are here."
"_Pardieu_, if this be the case, then I shall go back to St. Malo, to
dine with the fat cits and dance with their pretty daughters."
"You? Ha! ha!"
"Laugh as you may, mademoiselle: the coachman of Monsieur le Curé of
St. Solidore, who holds the consciences of half the province in his
keeping, is not without some importance at St. Malo, be assured."
"_Que cons êtes bon!_ (what a simpleton you are!) Kiss me and say
nothing more."
A certain remarkable sound followed; then the lovers, apparently
reconciled, passed through the archway, and I could perceive that the
man was no other than Jacquot Tricot, who had driven the
_d'esobligeant_ of the old Curé of St. Solidore, and that his
companion was a pretty and piquant young Bretonne, with fine features
and coal-black eyes, and having her dark hair dressed back _à la
marquise_, under a tall white cap of spotless linen.
She wore a tight red bodice, with its armholes so large that at the
back only an inch or two of the stuff remained between the shoulders;
but under this she had a pretty habit-shirt, which fully displayed
the swelling form of her fine bust and shoulders. Her ample but
short black skirt, embroidered with silver, announced, after the
Breton custom, that she was not altogether dowerless, and by her high
instep, smart ankle, and taper leg, no one could doubt that Angelique
was a charming dancer.
I am thus particular in describing this girl, who was a piquante
little country beauty, full of queer Breton exclamations, because our
acquaintance did not end here.
My wound was very painful. I felt weak and light-headed; but the
consciousness that other concealment was necessary made me look about
for a new lurking-place.
On one side of the avenue there opened a spacious lawn; on the other
lay a lake, and above the embattled wall and gateway the turrets of a
chateau were visible in the sunshine. In the middle of the lawn grew
a thicket of shrubs or dwarf trees. My course was soon determined
on--to reach the thicket and remain there concealed till nightfall,
and trust the rest to Providence.
I dropped from the summit of the straw-laden wain, and, passing
quickly through the line of lofty trees, was about to hurry across
the lawn, when I heard a shout uttered by many voices, and found
myself within fifty paces of a strong party of French Hussars, who
had picketed their horses near the avenue, and were quietly enjoying,
_al fresco_, a meal which had no doubt been sent to them from the
chateau. It was quite a military picnic, as they were all lounging
on the grass, around cold pies, fowls, tarts, and bottles of wine,
with their jackets open, their belts and pelisses off.
So busy had they been with their jaws, that their tongues had been
silent hitherto, and thus I knew nothing of a vicinity so dangerous,
until it was too late to retreat.
Being defenceless, my first thought was to advance confidently and
surrender myself as a prisoner of war; but, on seeing that while some
rushed to their holsters to procure pistols, others snatched up their
sabres, with cries of--
"Down with the Englishman! _Sacré Dieu!_"
"Shoot him down!"
"_A bas les Anglais!_"
"_Tuez_! _Tuez_! Cut him to pieces!" and so forth, I turned and
fled towards the chateau, followed by the whole party, some twenty in
number, on foot.
Several shots were fired, but I escaped them all. I passed the wain,
dashed through the gateway within which Angelique and Jacquot were
still tenderly cooing and billing, and crossed the gravelled
courtyard, closely pursued by the hussars, who would no doubt have
immolated me there, had not a young lady who was standing on the
steps of the entrance-door in conversation with a brilliant-looking
cavalry officer, rushed forward and courageously and humanely
interposed between them and me, with her arms outspread.
"_Pardieu!_ where did you come from, _Coquin_? Cut the fellow down!"
exclaimed the officer, who was the Chevalier Guillaume do
Boisguiller, and in whom I recognised my antagonist of the
morning--he of the white scarf, crimson ribbon, and grand cross of
St. Louis.
"_Ah, je vous prie_, monsieur le Chevalier--Messieurs les soldats,
don't harm him, pray," cried the young lady; and then she
added--"Nay, hold, I command you!"
"What! you intercede for him, do you?" said the officer, with haughty
surprise.
"Yes--I do, monsieur."
"Although he is one of those pestilent English who have been playing
the devil at Cancalle and St. Malo?"
"I care not--I am Jacqueline de Broglie."
It was she indeed--she whom I had rescued, and who gave me the
emerald ring by the wayside well; but she was now so richly attired,
and had her fine hair so perfectly dressed, that I did not at first,
and in such a terrible crisis, recognise her.
"_Parbleu_, 'tis very well. Fall back, comrades, sheath your sabres,
and finish your luncheon, for we march at sunset," said the captain,
twisting his short moustache; "but what am I to understand by all
this, mademoiselle?"
"That he saved my life--my honour--scarcely four-and-twenty hours
ago," said she, emphatically.
"_Sacré!_ he nearly took both my life and honour this morning," said
the chevalier, with a grimace.
"And he is wounded--severely, too--the poor fellow!" she added, in a
voice of tender commiseration.
"What! is this the soldier of whom you were just speaking--he who
saved you from that rascal Hautois, on the night St. Solidore was
cannonaded and destroyed?" asked the hussar, with surprise.
"The same, Monsieur de Boisguiller, and I demand that here, on my own
threshold, his life shall be respected."
"So be it, mademoiselle; for your sake, I would spare the lives of
the whole British army, if such were your wish--assuredly it should
not be _mine_," said the captain, bowing low, with a tender glance in
his eye.
"I thank you, M. le Chevalier," replied the lady, laughing.
"And I congratulate you, M. le soldat, on having such an
intercessor," said the Frenchman, making a merit of necessity, and
with somewhat of apparent frankness presenting his hand to me.
At that moment the whole place, the chateau with its turrets, the
chevalier and the lady, appeared to whirl round me; the light went
from my eyes, and darkness seemed to descend in its place; I made a
wild clutch at a railing to prevent myself from falling, but failed;
and, sinking on the steps that led to the entrance, remember no more
of that interview.
For several days after this, all was confusion or all oblivion to me.
I was delirious and in a burning fever.