THE FRANC-TAUPIN.
Josephin, Bridget's brother, surnamed Tocquedillon the Franc-Taupin,
stepped into the room. A soldier of adventure since his fifteenth year,
he had run away from the paternal home, and soon thereafter enrolled
with the Franc-Taupins, a sort of irregular militia, whose duty it was
to dig the trenches intended to cover the approaches of the assailants
at the siege of a city. These mercenary soldiers were named
"Franc-Taupins" because, like the franc archers, they were "frank" or
free from taxation, and because their underground work bore great
resemblance to that of the _taupe_--mole. Once out of their trenches,
the saying was, the Franc-Taupins displayed but little courage. Whether
justly or unjustly, the poltroonery of the Franc-Taupin became
proverbial, as evidenced by the favorite song of Bridget's brother. This
personage, however, was anything but a poltroon. Just the reverse. After
he had twice or three times turned up the earth at as many sieges, he
disdained to belong to a corps of such cowardly renown, and enrolled in
another irregular militia, one that stood in general dread--the
Adventurers or Pendards, of whom a contemporaneous writer drew the
following and, unfortunately, but too truthful picture:
"What a vagabond, flagitious, murderous set are these Pendards! They are
deniers of God, ravishing wolves, violators of women, devourers of the
people! They drive the good man out of his house, empty his pot of wine
and sleep in his bed. Their garb matches their disorderly habits. They
wear shirts with long sleeves, open in front and exposing their hirsute
chests; their streaked hose do not cover their flesh; their calves are
left bare and they carry their socks in their belts for fear of wearing
them out. Poultry trembles in the hen-coops at their approach, and so
does bacon in the pantry. Brawling, roistering, audacious, ever with
their mouths wide open, they love nothing better than to guzzle in
company the wine that they have jointly stolen."
Despite his intrepidity in war, and without resembling at all points
this picture of the Pendards, Tocquedillon the Franc-Taupin, preserved
strong features of the same. For all that, however, he adored, venerated
his sister, and from the moment that he sat down at her hearth he would
seem metamorphosed. Nothing in either his words or his conduct would
then recall the audacious adventurer. Timid, affectionate, realizing how
unbecoming the slang of the tavern or of even worse places would be in
the presence of Bridget's children, of whom he was as fond as of her
herself, he always controlled himself and never uttered in their
presence any but decorous language. For Christian he had as much love as
respect. As the saying goes, he would have gone through fire for the
family. The Franc-Taupin was at this time about thirty years of age; he
was lean, bony and about six feet high. Scarred with innumerable wounds,
and partly blinded in battle, he wore a large black patch over his left
eye. He kept his hair close cropped, his beard cut into a point under
his chin, and his moustache twisted upward. His nose was pimply through
excessive indulgence in wine, and his thick-lipped mouth, slit from ear
to ear, exposed two rows of desultory shark's teeth every time that, as
a true roisterer, he gave a loose to his imperturbable mirthfulness.
The moment he stepped into the room, the Franc-Taupin deposited his old
and weather-beaten sword in a corner, embraced his sister and her two
children, shook hands cordially with Christian, bowed respectfully to
the unknown man, and timidly took his usual place at the family table.
Christian came to the relief of his brother-in-law's embarrassment and
said to him jovially:
"We would have felt uneasy at your absence, Josephin, if we did not know
that you are of those who, with their swords at their side, defy the
world and are able to defend themselves against all assailants."
"Oh, brother, the best sword in the world will not protect one against a
surprise; the surprise that I have just experienced has knocked me down.
As my surprise tastes strongly of salt, I am dying with thirst--allow me
to empty a cup." After his cup was emptied the Franc-Taupin proceeded
with a scared look: "By the bowels of St. Quenet, what did I see! I'm
quite certain that I am not deceived; I have only one eye left, but it
is good for two. By all the devils, I saw him! I saw him distinctly! A
singular encounter!"
"Whom did you see, Josephin?"
"I saw, just now, just before nightfall, here, in Paris, Captain Don
Ignatius Loyola, a Spanish nobleman--a devil of a fighter and an
inveterate lover of amorous adventures--a terrible man."
At the mentioning of Ignatius Loyola's name the guest at Christian's
table shuddered, while Christian himself asked the Franc-Taupin:
"But who is that Spanish captain the sight of whom in Paris affects you
so greatly?"
"Did you really know the man?" inquired Monsieur John in an accent of
deep interest. "Did you know Ignatius Loyola personally?"
"I should think I did! I was his page."
"And so, Loyola was a captain?" again inquired Monsieur John, more and
more interested in what the Franc-Taupin said. "You must, then, have
some information on the man's life, his character, his habits. Please
tell us something about him."
"By the bowels of St. Quenet! I was continuously with him for three
whole months! By all the devils, I never left his side, either day or
night!"
"What were his morals?"
"Oh! Oh! friend guest, I would not like to answer that question in my
sister's presence--it is too racy a story."
"Friend Christian," said Monsieur John, "I notice that you are
surprised at my curiosity concerning the Spanish captain. You will some
day understand that the information in question interests you as well.
It will be an interesting history for you to know."
"Hena, Herve," said the artisan, "supper is nearly ended, my children;
it is growing late; you may retire."
"And I," put in Bridget, "have some embroidery to finish; I shall go
upstairs and work at it with Hena; I shall come down later and put away
the dishes. You can call for me, Christian, if you need anything. You
and Josephin can entertain our guest."
Herve embraced his father with an affectation of increased tenderness,
and withdrew to his bedroom; Bridget and her daughter went upstairs. The
unknown man and Christian remained alone with the Franc-Taupin, and the
latter proceeded, laughing:
"My sister and her children being out of the way, my tongue is at
freedom. Tell me, brother, did you ever hear the story of the greyhound?
The handsomest bitches sighed after him; he remained insensible to all
their tender growls; one day a monk's frock was thrown upon him, and he
immediately became as amorous as one possessed. Well, Captain Loyola was
as possessed for love adventures as the greyhound in the story, without,
however, having need of a monk's frock to give him the start; and--but I
was almost forgetting. Do you know, brother, in whose company I saw the
fire-eater and hell-rake this evening? With your friend Lefevre."
Christian remained for an instant speechless with astonishment; and
turning to Monsieur John, he said:
"I must admit that great is my astonishment. Lefevre, whose name I
mentioned to you before, is an austere man, wholly absorbed in
scientific pursuits and in study. What can he have in common with the
Spanish libertine? I am unable to explain the mystery."
"If you are surprised, brother, no less so am I," replied the
Franc-Taupin. "Captain Loyola, whom fourteen or fifteen years ago I knew
as the handsomest, gayest and most dissolute of cavaliers, dressed in
velvets, silks and lace, looks to-day as tattered as any tramp or
starving beggar. The transformation is so radical, that I never would
have thought of looking for my frisky Spanish captain under the black
smock-frock of a halepopin, had it not been for Lefevre, who, stopping
me near the booths of the market place, which I was then crossing,
inquired after you. It was then that I looked more attentively at his
seedy companion and recognized--Don Ignatius!"
"The man's relations astonish me so much, Josephin, that I am no less
impatient than our guest to hear you."
"Well, it was in the year 1521, during the siege of Pampeluna," the
adventurer began, "and shortly after my enrollment with the
Franc-Taupins. I was digging a trench with them before the place; we
were throwing up the earth like veritable moles. The Spaniards made a
sortie in order to destroy our works. At the first shot of the Spanish
arquebuses, all my companions threw themselves flat down, with their
noses in the hole. Their cowardice angered me. I took up my pick and
rushed into the melee, plying my improvised weapon upon the Spaniards. A
blow with a mace over my head knocked me down half dead. When I
recovered consciousness I found myself lying upon the battle field among
several of our men, all prisoners like myself. A company of Spanish
arquebusiers surrounded us. Their captain, with the visor of his casque
raised and mounted upon a Moorish horse as black as ebony, the housings
of which were of red velvet embroidered with silver, was wiping his
long, blood-stained sword upon the animal's mane. The captain was Don
Ignatius Loyola. Moustache turned up in Castilian style, goatee, an
olive complexion, intrepid mien, haughty and martial bearing--such was
his portrait. He had noticed me pounding his soldiers with my pick, and
took a fancy both to my pick and my youth. When he saw that I had
regained consciousness, he started to laugh and addressed me in French:
'Will you be my page? Your wideawake face denotes an intelligent
scapegrace; I shall furnish you a silver-embroidered red livery and a
ducat a month, and you can eat your fill at my residence.' Oh, brother,
an offer to eat my fill, to me whose stomach had long been as hollow as
the barrel of St. Benoit and as open as an advocate's purse! The
prospect of putting on a beautiful silver-embroidered livery, when my
hose had for some time been reporting to me from which corner the wind
blew! The thought of pocketing every month a ducat, when all my earnings
during the whole campaign had so far been a wooden bowl that I plundered
somewhere, and that I used for a hat! In token of glad acceptance I
seized my pick that lay near me, threw it as far away as I could, and I
told Don Ignatius that I accepted, and would follow him to the very
devil's residence. The long and short of the affair was that I entered
Pampeluna with my new master."
"I feel more and more mystified," interjected Christian; "what service
could a page, ignorant of the country's language, render to Don
Ignatius?"
"The devil take it! That was the very reason why I was employed by the
cunning slyboots of a Don Ignatius. No sooner did I arrive at his
residence, than an old majordomo, the only one of his men who spoke
French, rigged me up in new clothes, from my feet to my head,--puffed
hose of red velvet, white satin jacket, short cloak with silver
trimmings, ruffs and bonnet after the Spanish style. Thus behold me,
brother, attired as a genuine court page. In those days I had both my
eyes--two luminaries of deviltry, besides the cunning nose of a fox cub.
Thus dressed up in spick and span dashing new clothes, the majordomo led
me to Captain Loyola, 'Do you know,' he asked me, 'why I take you, a
Frenchman, for my page? It is because, as you do not know Spanish, you
can not choose but be discreet towards the people in my house and those
outside.'"
"That is not badly planned," remarked Christian; "Don Ignatius had, I
suppose, many amorous secrets to conceal?"
"By the bowels of St. Quenet! I knew him to have as many as three
sweethearts at a time: a charming merchant's wife, a haughty
marchioness, and a bedeviled gipsy girl, the most beautiful daughter of
Bohemia that ever trilled a tambourine. But Captain Loyola, a veritable
Franc-Taupin in matters of love, courted behind concealed trenches. He
reveled in mystery. 'What is not known does not exist' was, with him, a
favorite maxim that the old majordomo, his master's echo, often repeated
to me."
"'What is not known does not exist,'" repeated Monsieur John pensively.
"Yes, judging by the motto, the man must be just what he has been
described to me to be."
"Just listen," Josephin proceeded; "I shall describe to you the
experiences that I made the first evening that I served Don Ignatius as
page. You will then be able to judge of the scamp's calibre. A
fifteen-days' truce was agreed upon between the French and the
Spaniards, as a result of the sortie at which I was taken prisoner. As a
longheaded man, Captain Loyola proposed to profit by the truce in his
amorous intrigues. Towards midnight he summoned me to his side. The
devil! If the fellow looked martial in battle outfit, he looked frisky
in his court costume! A jacket slashed with gold-embroidered velvet,
puffed hose of white satin, shoes turned like a crawfish, plumed bonnet,
a gold bejeweled chain on his neck! What shall I say? He shone and
glittered, and besides, smelled of balsam! A veritable muskrat! He hands
for me to carry a silken ladder and a guitar; takes his dagger and
sword; and wraps himself up to the eyes in a taffeta mantle of light
yellow. The old majordomo opens a secret door to us; we issue out of the
house; after crossing a few narrow streets, we arrive at a deserted
little square. My master glides under a balcony that is shut with
lattices, takes the guitar from my hands, and there you have him
warbling his roundelay. In response to the carol of the moustachioed
nightingale, one of the shutters of the balcony opens slightly, and a
bouquet of pomegranate blossoms drops at our feet. Don Ignatius picks it
up, extracts from amidst the flowers a little note concealed among them,
and gives me the guitar together with the bouquet to hold for him. I
imagined our evening performance concluded. By the bowels of St. Quenet,
it had only commenced! Don Ignatius fanned the sparks of his
libidinousness with his guitarade, on the same principle that one fans
the sparks of his thirst by chewing on a pork-rind dipped in mustard.
But by the way of thirst, brother, let us imbibe that pot; appetite
comes with eating, but thirst goes with drinking. He who drinks without
being thirsty drinks for the thirst that is to come. Thirst is an
animal's quality, but to crave for drink is a quality of man. By St
Pansard and St. Goguelu, let's moisten, let's moisten our whistles! Our
tongues will dry up soon enough! Unhappy Shrove-Tuesday, the patron of
pots and sausages--and the devil take the Pope and all his friarhood!"
"Josephin," said Christian, smiling and filling the Franc-Taupin's cup,
as he broke into the midst of the latter's flow of bacchic invocations,
"I know you to be an expert in the matter of quaffing, but our guest and
myself are more curious about the end of your story."
"God's head! As truly as the mere shadow of a Carmelite convent is
enough to cure any woman of sterility, I shall not allow the end of the
adventure of Don Ignatius to drown at the bottom of this cup! There, it
is now empty!"
Saying this, the Franc-Taupin passed the back of his hand over his
moustache, moist with wine, wiped it dry, and proceeded:
"Well, as I was saying, after his guitarade, Don Ignatius proceeded with
his nocturnal adventure on the streets of Pampeluna. We moved away, and
pulled up next before a pretentious dwelling. My master plants himself
under a balcony at some distance from the main entrance; passes his long
sword over to me to keep with the guitar, and retains no weapon other
than his dagger; he then disengages himself of his mantle also, which he
throws over my arm and says to me: 'You will hold the lower end of the
ladder while I climb up to the balcony; you will then keep a sharp
lookout near the door of this house; if you see anyone go in, you will
run quickly under this window and clap your hands twice; I shall hear
your signal.' This being agreed upon, Don Ignatius himself claps his
hands three times. Immediately thereupon I see through the darkness of
the night, a white form lean over the balustrade and drop us a cord. My
master ties his ladder to it; the white form draws it up; the upper end
of the ladder is fastened to the balcony; I steady it by holding the
lower rung in my hands; and there you have Captain Loyola clambering up
nimbly and light of heel, like a tom-cat running over a roof-pipe. As to
myself, no less distressed than the dog of the cook who is turning the
roast on the spit over a fire, and looks at the savory meat out of the
corner of his eyes without partaking of it, I run and place myself in
ambush near the door. The devil! A few minutes later, what is that I
see? Several seigneurs, lighted by lackeys with torches in their hands
turn into the street. One of them walks straight to the door near which
I stand on the watch, and enters the house where my master is regaling
himself. Obedient to the watchword, but forgetting that the flames of
the torches are lighting me, I run to the balcony and clap my hands
twice. By the bowels of St. Quenet, I am perceived! Two lackeys seize me
at the moment when, notified by my signal, Captain Loyola is straddling
the balustrade in order to descend into the street. He is recognized by
the light of the torches. 'It is he!' 'There he is!' cry the seigneurs
who stand in a bunch in the street. Although discovered, Don Ignatius
glides bravely down the ladder, touches ground and calls: 'Halloa,
there, page, my sword!' 'Don Ignatius of Loyola, I am Don Alonzo, the
brother of Donna Carmen,' says one of the cavaliers. 'I am ready to give
you satisfaction,' answers the captain proudly. But by the bowels of St.
Quenet, it was with Don Ignatius's duels as with his amorous
appointments: before the one was well finished the next commenced.
Suddenly, the man whom I had seen enter the house, in short, the
husband, Don Hercules Luga, appeared at the balcony; he held a bleeding
sword in his hand. He leans forward into the street and cries: 'Friends,
justice is done to the woman! There now remains justice to be done to
her accomplice. Hold him. I am coming down!'"
"Poor woman!" said Christian. "The death that he was the cause of must
have horrified the libertine."
"Him? The devil! Horrified at so little? Judge for yourself. At the
moment he learned of the death of his inamorata he receives his sword
from the hands of Don Alonzo, who had taken it away from me. Don
Ignatius pricks its point into the tip of his shoe, and without winking
bends the blade in order to satisfy himself on its temper. That shows
how frightened he was at the death of his lady-love. The husband, Don
Hercules, comes out of the house, steps up to my master and says to him:
'Don Ignatius of Loyola, I received you as a friend at my hearth; you
have led my wife astray; you are a felon, unworthy of knighthood!' And
what do you imagine, brother, is the answer that Captain Loyola made to
that? If you can guess, I shall be willing to die of thirst. But no; a
pox on these funereal prognostics! I prefer to drink, to drink until my
soles sweat wine!"
"Proceed, Josephin; proceed with your story."
"'Don Hercules,' answers Captain Loyola loftily, 'in leading Carmen
astray, it was not _your_ woman[10] that I led astray, but _a_ woman, as
any other! You insult me by accusing me of a felony. You shall pay
dearly, and on the spot, for such an insult. I shall kill you like a
dog.'"
"Did you grasp that? Can you imagine a more odious subtlety?" asked
Christian of Monsieur John. "What a hypocritical distinction! The
libertine seduced the unfortunate woman, but not his friend's wife--only
the _woman_, as a _woman_! Just God, such subtle quibbling! and that
while his victim's corpse is still warm!"
"That is, indeed, the man as he has been described to me," repeated the
guest, with a pensive air. "What I am learning is a revelation to me."
"The issue of the duel could not be doubtful," proceeded the
Franc-Taupin. "Captain Loyola enjoyed the reputation of being the most
skilful swordsman in Spain. He fully deserved his reputation. Don
Hercules drops dead upon the ground. Don Alonzo endeavors to avenge his
sister and brother-in-law, but the young man is readily disarmed by Don
Ignatius, who, raising his sword, says: 'Your life belongs to me; you
have insulted me by sharing the unworthy suspicions of Don Hercules, who
accused me of having betrayed his friendship. But go in peace, young
man, repent your evil thoughts--I pardon you!' After which Captain
Loyola repaired to the gypsy girl and spent with her the rest of the
night. I heard the two (always like the cook's dog) laugh, sing and
carouse, clinking their glasses filled with Spanish wine. We returned
home at dawn. Now tell me, brother Christian, what do you think of the
gallant? You may judge by the experience of that night the number of
pretty women whom the captain Loyolized!"
"Oh, the man's infernal hypocrisy only deepens the blackness of his
debaucheries and swordsman's prowess!"
Absorbed in his private thoughts, Monsieur John remained in a brown
study. Presently he said to the Franc-Taupin:
"You followed Loyola to war. Was the captain's regiment well
disciplined? How did he treat his soldiers?"
"His soldiers? By the bowels of St. Quenet! Imagine, not men, but iron
statues, that, with but a gesture, a wink of his eye, Don Ignatius
either moved or petrified, as he chose. Broken in and harnessed to his
command like so many machines, he said: 'Go!'--and they went, not only
into battle but whithersoever he ordered. They were no longer
themselves, but he. What the devil, Captain Loyola controlled men and
women like horses--by the identical methods."
"What methods, let us hear them, Josephin."
"Well, one day a wild stallion of Cordova was brought to him; the animal
was savage, a veritable demon; two strong stablemen were hardly able to
hold him by the halter. Don Ignatius ordered the wild beast to be taken
to a small enclosed yard, and remained there alone with him. I was
outside, behind the gate. First I heard the stallion neigh with fury,
then with pain, and then there was silence. Two hours later Captain
Loyola issued from the yard mounted on the animal which steamed with
foam and still trembled with fear, but as docile as a curate's mule."
"That is wonderful!" cried Christian. "Was the man possessed of a magic
charm with which to curb wild beasts?"
"Exactly so, brother, and his talisman consisted in a set of reins so
fearfully and skilfully contrived that, if the horse yielded passive
obedience to the hand that guided him, he felt no pain whatever; but at
the slightest show of resistance, Captain Loyola set in motion a certain
steel saw contrivance supplied with sharp points and fastened in the
bit. Immediately the animal would neigh with pain, remain motionless and
sink down upon his haunches, whereupon Don Ignatius would pat it with
his hand and give it some cream cakes. By the bowels of St. Quenet! Iron
reins and cream cakes--this was the trick wherewith the captain
Loyolized men, women and horses!"
"And did his soldiers love him, despite his inflexible yoke?" asked
Monsieur John.
"Did they love him? The devil! Do you forget the cream cakes? Puddings,
sausages, capons, fatted geese, pouches filled with Val-de-Penas wine,
gay wenches, high jinks in the barracks; in the enemy's country, free
pillage, free rape, fire, blood and sack, and long live the saturnalia!
These were the cream cakes of Captain Loyola. Whenever occasion
required, he would treat his soldiers to these dainties out of his own
pocket like a magnificent seigneur; but to allow his soldiers to
reflect, to think, to reason, to will?--Never! To ask why this and why
that? Never! 'Kill,' the captain would say, and the response was:
'Listen, he says kill--we kill!' But it is your friend, your brother,
your father, your sister, your mother that he orders you to kill. 'Makes
no difference, he said kill--we kill, and we kill;' and then come the
cream cakes and more cream cakes, otherwise the reins begin to play, and
they play so severely--clubbings, strappings, croppings of ears,
hanging by the limbs and other devices of the devil. 'Our dear master,'
often did the old majordomo say to me, 'our dear master is everything to
all of us, provided all of us let him have his own will untrammeled;
omnipotence is the secret joy of the dear Don Ignatius; to possess a
woman, curb a mettlesome horse, manoeuvre his men of iron as one bends a
reed--that is his enjoyment! He delights in absorbing souls. As to
bodies, he fondles, caresses, indulges, dandles, fattens and greases
them--provided they move at his will.' It is ever so, he who holds the
soul holds the body."
Christian hesitated to believe the account of the Franc-Taupin; he could
hardly give credence to the monstrous description. Monsieur John looked
less surprised, but more alarmed. He said to Josephin, who, having
wished to help himself to some more wine, sighed at finding the pot
empty:
"But by what combination of circumstances could Ignatius Loyola, such as
you described him to us and such as, I do believe, he was, metamorphose
himself to the extent of coming here, to Paris, and seat himself on the
benches of the Montaigu College among the youngest of the students?"
"What!" cried Christian, stupefied. "Is Ignatius Loyola to-day a simple
student?"
"He attended the College," replied Monsieur John; "and one day he
submitted to be publicly whipped in punishment for a slip of memory.
There is something unexplainable, or frightful, in such humility on the
part of such a man."
"Ignatius Loyola! the debauchee, the skilful swordsman! The haughty
nobleman, did he do that?" cried Christian. "Can it be possible?"
"By the bowels of St. Quenet, brother," put in the Franc-Taupin in his
turn, "as well tell me that the monks of Citeaux left their kegs empty
after vintage! Even such a thing would sound less enormous than that
Captain Loyola slipped down his hose to receive a flogging! The devil
take me!" cried the Franc-Taupin vainly trying to extract a few more
drops from the pot. "I am choked with surprise!"
"But you must not be allowed to choke with thirst, good Josephin," put
in Christian, smiling and exchanging a look of intelligence with
Monsieur John. "The pot is empty. As soon as your story is ended, and in
order to feast our guest, I shall have to ask you to go to the tavern
that you know of and fetch us a pot of Argenteuil wine. That is agreed,
brother."
"St. Pansard, have pity upon my paunch! By my faith, brother, the pots
are empty. I guess the reason why. One time I used to drink it all--now
I leave nothing. Did you say a pot of wine? Amen!" said the Franc-Taupin
rising from his seat. "We shall furnish our guest with a red border,
like a cardinal! Yes, brother, it is agreed. And so I shall go for the
pot, but not for one only--for two, or three."
"Not so fast, first finish your story; I am interested in it more than
you can imagine," said Monsieur John with great earnestness. "I must
again ask you: To what do you, who knew Loyola so well, attribute this
incredible change?"
"May my own blood smother me; may the quartain fever settle my hash, if
I understand it! A few hours ago I strained my remaining eye fit to give
it a squint, in contemplating Don Ignatius. Seeing him so threadbare, so
wan, so seedy and leaning upon his staff, I had not the courage to
remind him of me. By the bowels of St. Quenet, I felt ashamed of having
been page to the worn-out old crippled hunch-back."
"How is that! You described him as having been such a fine-looking
cavalier and such a skilful swordsman--and yet he was hunch-backed?"
"He was crippled through two wounds that he received at the siege of
Pampeluna. The devil! All the fathers, all the brothers, all the
husbands whose daughters, sisters and wives the captain Loyolized, would
have felt themselves thoroughly revenged if, like myself, they had seen
him writhe like one possessed and howling like a hundred wolves from the
pain of his wounds. By the bowels of the Pope, what horrible grimaces
the man made!"
"But how could so intrepid a man display such weakness at pain?"
"Not at the pain itself; not that. On the contrary. As a result of his
wounds he voluntarily endured positive torture, beside which his first
agonies were gentle caresses."
"And why did he submit to such tortures? Can you explain that?"
"Yes. The truce between the Spaniards and the French lasted several
days. At its close Captain Loyola mounted his horse, and placing himself
at the head of his forces ordered a sortie. He made havoc among the
enemy; but in the melee he received two shots from an arquebus. One of
them fractured his right leg just below the knee, the other took him
under the left hip. My gallant was carried to his house and we laid him
in his bed. Do you know what were the first words that Don Ignatius
uttered? They were these: 'Death and passion, I may remain deformed all
my life!' And would you believe it? Captain Loyola wept like a woman!
Aye, he wept, not with pain, no, by the bowels of St. Quenet, but with
rage! You may imagine how crossed the handsome and roistering cavalier
felt at the prospect. Imagine a limping cripple strolling under
balconies and warbling his love songs! Imagine such a figure running
after the senoras! What a sight it would be to have such a disjointed
lover throwing himself at their feet at the risk of being unable to pick
himself up again and yelling with pain: 'Oh, my leg! Oh, my knee!' Just
think of such a lame duck attempting to try conclusions with jealous and
irate husbands and brothers, arms in hand! Don Ignatius must have
thought of all that--and wept!"
"It is almost incomprehensible that a man of his temper could be so
enamoured of his physical advantages," remarked Christian.
"Not at all!" replied Monsieur John thoughtfully. "Oh, what an abyss is
the human soul! I now think I understand--" but suddenly breaking off he
asked the Franc-Taupin: "Accordingly, Don Ignatius was dominated by the
fear of remaining crippled for life?"
"That was his only worry. But I must hurry on. I have a horror of empty
wine pots. My present worry is about the wine spigot. Well, all the
same, after healing, Captain Loyola's legs remained, as he feared, of
unequal length. 'Oh, dogs! Jews! Pagan surgeons!' bawled Don Ignatius
when he made the discovery. 'Fetch me here the robed asses! the brothers
of Beelzebub! I shall have them quartered!' Summoned in great hurry, the
poor wretches of surgeons hastened to Don Ignatius. They trembled;
turned and turned him about; they examined and re-examined his leg;
after all of which, the slashers of Christian flesh and sawers of
Christian bones declared that they could render Captain Loyola as nimble
of foot as ever he was. 'A hundred ducats to each of you if you keep
your promise!' he cried, already seeing himself prancing on horseback,
prinking in his finery, strutting about, warbling love songs under
balconies, parading, and above all Loyolizing. 'Yes, senor; the lameness
will disappear,' answered the bone-setters, 'but, we shall have, first
of all, to break your leg over again, where it was fractured before; in
the second place, senor, we shall have to cut away the flesh that has
grown over the bone below your knee; in the third place, we shall have
to saw off a little bone that protrudes; that all being done, no doe of
the forest will be more agile than your Excellency.' 'Break, re-set,
cut off, saw off, by the death of God!' cried Captain Loyola 'provided I
can walk straight! Go ahead! Start to work!'"
"But that series of operations must have caused him frightful pain!"
"By the bowels of St. Quenet! When the protruding bone was being sawed
off, the grinding of Captain Loyola's teeth drowned the sound of the
saw's teeth. The contortions that he went through made him look like a
veritable demon. His suffering was dreadful."
"And did he heal?"
"Perfectly. But there still remained the left thigh in its bandages. The
fraternity of surgeons swore that that limb would be as good if not
better than before the injury that it sustained. At the end of six weeks
Captain Loyola rose and tried to walk. He did walk. Glory to the
bone-setters! He no longer limped of the right leg; but, the devil! his
left thigh had shrunk by two inches by reason of a tendon that was
wounded. And there was my gallant still hobbling, worse than ever. It
had all to be done over again."
"Don Ignatius's fury must have been fierce!"
"Howling tigers and roaring lions would have been as bleating lambs
beside Captain Loyola in his boiling rage. 'Dear, sweet master,' his old
majordomo said to him, 'the saints will help you; why despair? The
surgeons performed a miracle on your right leg; why should not they be
equally able to do the same thing on your left thigh?' The drowning man
clings to a straw. 'Halloa, page, run to the surgeons!' yelled my
master at me; 'bring them here instantly!' The surgeons came. 'Here they
are, senor.' 'I suffered the pangs of death for the cure of my right
leg; I am willing to suffer as much or worse for the lengthening of my
left thigh. Can you do it?' said Don Ignatius to the bones-setters.
Whereupon they fell to feeling, pressing, kneading and manipulating the
twisted thigh of the patient; without desisting from their work at the
member after a while they raised their heads and mumbled between their
teeth: 'Senor, yes, we can free you from this limp--but, firstly, we
shall have to strap you down upon your back, where you will have to lie,
motionless, for two months; secondly, a strap will have to be passed
under your arms and fastened firmly to the head of your couch; thirdly,
a weight of fifty pounds will have to be adjusted to a ring and fastened
to your left leg, to the end that the weight slowly, steadily, and
constantly distend your thigh. The result will then be obtained, seeing
you will be held firm and motionless by the two straps, the one that
binds you down to your bed and the other, under your arms, that holds
you to the head of your couch. With the aid of these contrivances, your
thigh will be restored to its normal condition at the end of two months,
and the does of the forest will then be less agile than your
Excellency.' 'Do it!' was Loyola's answer. 'Strap, distend, stretch me
out, blood of God, provided I can walk!'"
"That is frightful!" cried Christian. "It is the 'wooden horse' torture,
prolonged beyond the point of human endurance."
"By the bowels of St. Quenet! There is nothing beyond endurance to a
gallant who is determined not to hobble. Don Ignatius underwent the
torture for the two months. The old majordomo and myself nursed our
master. At times he screamed--Oh, such screams! They were heard a
thousand feet from the house. Exhausted with pain, his eyelids would
droop in sleep, but only to be suddenly reawakened with a start by his
shooting pains. At such times the sounds that he emitted were screams no
longer, but the howlings of the damned. At the end of two months of
insomnia and continuous agony, which left nothing but the skin on his
bones, but during which he was held up at least with the hope of final
cure, Captain Loyola's surgeons held a consultation, and allowed him to
leave his bed of torture. He rose, walked--but, the devil! not only was
his left thigh not sufficiently lengthened, but his right knee, that had
been previously operated upon, had become ossified from lying motionless
for so long a time! Captain Loyola said not a word; he became livid as a
corpse and dropped unconscious to the floor. We all thought he was dead.
The next day the majordomo notified me that our master did no longer
need a page. My wages were paid me; I left Spain and returned to France
with other prisoners who had been set free. After all that, and after
the lapse of fourteen or fifteen years, I ran a few hours ago across Don
Ignatius, near a booth on the market place, in the company of your
friend Lefevre. That, brother, ends my story. Jarnigoy! Is it not racy?
But by the bowels of St. Quenet, my tongue is parched; it cleaves to
the roof of my mouth; my whistle burns; it is on the point of breaking
out into flame; help! help! wine! wine! Let the wine act as water to put
out the fire! I shall now run out for the promised nectar of
Argenteuil!" added the Franc-Taupin, rising from his seat. "I shall be
back in a jiffy! And then we shall drinkedrille, drinkedraille, gaily
clink glasses with our guest. A full pot calls for a wide throat!"
So saying, Josephin went out, singing in a sonorous voice his favorite
refrain:
"A Franc-Taupin had an ash-tree bow,
All eaten with worms, and all knotted its cord;
His arrow was made out of paper, and plumed,
And tipped at the end with a capon's spur.
_Derideron, vignette on vignon! Derideron!_"