THE RAVENELS FIND CAPTAIN COLBURNE IN GOOD QUARTERS.
The spring and summer of 1862 was a time of such peace and pleasantness
to the Tenth Barataria as if there had been no war. With the Major
General commanding Carter was a favorite, as being a man who had seen
service, a most efficient officer, an old regular and a West Pointer.
The Tenth was a pet, as being clean, admirably accoutred,
well-disciplined and thoroughly instructed in those formal niceties and
watchful severities of guard duty which are harder to teach to new
soldiers than the minutiæ of the manual, or the perplexities of field
evolutions, or the grim earnestness of fighting. The Colonel was
appointed Major of New Orleans, with a suspicion of something handsome
in addition to his pay; the regiment was put on provost duty in the
city, instead of being sent into the malarious mud of Camp Parapet or
the feverish trenches of Vicksburgh. Colburne's letters of those days
are full of braggadocio about the splendid condition of the Tenth and
the peculiar favor with which it was viewed by the commanding general.
Doctor Ravenel, in his admiration for the young captain, unwisely
published some of these complacent epistles, thereby eliciting retorts
and taunts from the literary champions of rival regiments, the _esprit
du corps_ having already grown into a strong and touchy sentiment among
the volunteer organizations.
In this new Capua, the only lap of luxury that our armies found during
the war, Carter, a curious compound of hardihood and sybaritism, forgot
that he wanted to be Hannibal, and that he had not yet fought his Cannæ.
He gave himself up to lazy pleasures, and even allowed his officers to
run to the same, in which they were not much discountenanced by the
commanding general, whose grim, practical humor was perhaps gratified by
the spectacle of freeborn mudsills dwelling in the palaces and emptying
the wine-cellars of a rebellious aristocracy. If, indeed, an undesirable
cub over-stepped some vague boundary, he found himself court-martialed
and dismissed the service. But the mass of the regimental officers,
being jealous in their light duties and not prominently obnoxious in
character, were permitted to live in such circumstances of comfort as
they chose to gather about them from the property of self-exiled
secessionists. Thus the regiment went through the season: no battles, no
marches, no privations, no exposures, no anxieties: not even any
weakening loss from the perilous climate. That terrible guardian angel
of the land, Yellow Jack, would not come to realize the fond
predictions of the inhabitants and abolish the alien garrison as a
similar seraph destroyed the host of Sennacherib.
"Don't you find it hot?" said a citizen to Captain Colburne. "You'll
find it too much for you yet."
"Pshaw!" answered the defiant youth. "I've seen it hotter than this in
Barataria with two feet of snow on the ground."
During the spring Colburne wrote several long letters to the Doctor,
with his mind, you may believe, fixed more on Miss Ravenel than on his
nominal correspondent. It was a case of moral strabismus, which like
many a physical squint, was not without its beauty, and was even quite
charming to the gaze of sentimental sympathy. It was a sly carom on the
father, with the intention of pocketing the daughter, but done with a
hand rendered so timorous by anxiety that the blows seemed to be struck
at random. The Captain enjoyed this correspondence; at times he felt all
by himself as if he were talking with the young lady; his hazel eyes
sparkled and his clear cheeks flushed with the excitement of the
imaginary interview; he dropped his pen and pushed up his wavy brown
hair into careless tangles, as was his wont in gleesome conversation.
But this happiness was not without its counterweight of trouble, so that
there might be no failure of equilibrium in the moral balance of the
universe. After Colburne had received two responses to his epistles,
there ensued a silence which caused him many lugubrious misgivings. Were
the Ravenels sick or dead? Had they gone to Canada or Europe to escape
the jealous and exacting loyalty of New England? Were they offended at
something which he had written? Was Lillie to be married to young
Whitewood, or some other conveniently propinquitous admirer?
The truth is that the Doctor had obtained a permit from the government
to go to New Orleans, and that the letter in which he informed Colburne
of his plan had miscarried, as frequently happened to letters in those
days of wide-spread confusion. On a certain scorching day in June he
knocked at the door of the neat little brick house which had been
assigned to the Captain as his quarters. It was opened by an officer in
the uniform of a second-lieutenant, a man of remarkable presence, very
dark and saturnine in visage, tall and broad-shouldered and huge
chested, with the limbs of a Heenan and the ringing bass voice of a
Susini. He informed the visitor that Captain Colburne was out, but
insisted with an amicable boisterousness upon his entering. He had an
elaborate and ostentatious courtesy of manner which puzzled the Doctor,
who could not decide whether he was a born and bred gentleman or a
professional gambler.
"Nearly dinner time, sir," he said in a rolling deep tone like mellow
thunder. "The Captain will be in soon for that good and sufficient
reason. You will dine with us, I hope. Give you some capital wine, sir,
out of Monsieur Soulé's own _cave_. Take this oaken arm-chair, sir, and
allow me to relieve you of your chapeau. What name, may I ask?--Ah!
Doctor Ravenel.--My God, sir! the Captain has a letter for you. I saw it
on his table a moment ago."
He commenced rummaging among papers and writing materials with an
exhilaration of haste which caused Ravenel to suspect that he had taken
a bottle or so of the Soulé sherry.
"Here it is," he exclaimed with a smile of triumph and friendliness.
"You had better take it while you see it. If you are a lawyer, sir, you
are aware that possession is nine tenths of a title. I beg pardon; of
course you are not a lawyer. Or have I the honor to address an L. L.
D.?"
"Merely an M. D.," observed Ravenel, and took his letter.
"A magnificent profession!" rejoined the sonorous lieutenant. "Most
ancient and honorable profession. The profession of Esculapius and
Hippocrates. The physician is older than the lawyer, and more useful to
humanity."
Ravenel looked at his letter and observed that it was not post-marked
nor sealed; he opened it, and found that it was from Colburne to
himself--intended to go, no doubt, by the next steamer.
"I hope it gives you good news from home, sir," observed the lieutenant
in the most amicable manner.
The Doctor bowed and smiled assent as he put the letter in his pocket,
not thinking it worth while to explain matters to a gentleman who was so
evidently muddled by the Soulé vintages. As his interlocutor rattled on
he looked about the room and admired the costly furniture and tasteful
ornaments. There were two choice paintings on the paneled walls, and a
dozen or so of choice engravings. The damask curtains edged with lace
were superb, and so were the damask coverings of the elaborately carved
oaken chairs and lounges. The marble mantels and table, and the
extravagant tortoise-shell _tiroir_, were loaded with Italian cameos,
Parisian bronzes, Bohemian glass-ware, Swiss wood-sculpture, and other
varieties of European gimcracks. Against the wall in one corner leaned
four huge albums of photographs and engravings. The Doctor thought that
he had never before seen a house in America decorated with such
exquisite taste and lavish expenditure. He had not been in it before,
and did not know who was its proprietor.
"Elegant little box, sir," observed the lieutenant. "It belongs to a
gentleman who is now a captain in the rebel service. He built and
furnished it for his affinity, an actress whom he brought over from
Paris, which disgusted his wife, I understand. Some women are devilish
exacting, sir."
Here the humor of a satyr gleamed in his black eyes and grinned under
his black mustache.
"You will see her portrait (the affinity's--not the wife's) all over the
house, as she appeared in her various characters. And here she is in
her morning-gown, in her own natural part of a plain, straight-forward
affinity."
He pointed with another satyr-like grin to a large photograph
representing the bust and face of a woman apparently twenty-eight or
thirty years of age, who could not have been handsome, but, judging by
the air of life and cleverness, might have been quite charming.
"Intelligent old girl, I should say, sir," continued the cicerone,
regardless of the Doctor's look of disgust; "but not precisely to my
taste. I like them more youthful and innocent, with something of the
down of girlhood's purity about them. What is your opinion, sir?"
Thus bullied, the Doctor admitted that he entertained much the same
preferences, at the same time wishing heartily in his soul that Colburne
would arrive.
"We have devilish fine times here, sir," pursued the other in his
remorseless garrulity. "We finished the rebel captain's wine-cellar long
ago, and are now living on old Soulé's. Emptied forty-six bottles of
madeira and champagne yesterday. Select party of loyal friends, sir,
from our own regiment, the bullissimo Tenth Barataria."
"Ah! you belong to the Tenth?" inquired the Doctor with interest.
"Yes, sir. Proud to own it, sir. The best regiment in either service.
Not that I enlisted in Barataria. I had the honor of being the first man
to join it here. I was in the rebel service, sir, an unwilling victim,
dragged as an innocent sheep to the slaughter, and took a part much
against my inclinations in the defence of Fort Jackson. It seemed to me,
sir, that the day of judgment had come, and the angel was blowing
particular hell out of his trumpet. Those shells of Porter's killed men
and buried them at one rap. My eyes stuck out so to watch for them that
they havn't got back into their proper place yet. After the fleet forced
the passage I was the first man to raise the standard of revolt, and bid
defiance to my officers. I then made the best time on record to New
Orleans, and enlisted under the dear old flag of my country in Captain
Colburne's company. I took a fancy to the captain at first sight. I saw
that he was a born gentleman and a scholar, sir. I was first made
sergeant for good conduct, obedience to orders, and knowledge of my
business; and when the second-lieutenant of the company died of bilious
fever I was promoted to the vacancy. Our colonel, sir, prefers gentlemen
for officers. I am of an old Knickerbocker family, one of the aboriginal
Peter Stuyvesant Knickerbockers, as you may infer from my name--Van
Zandt, at your service, sir--Cornelius Van Zandt, second-lieutenant, Co.
I, Tenth Regiment Barataria Volunteers. I am delighted to make your
acquaintance, and hope to see much of you."
I hope not, thought the Doctor with a shudder; but he bowed, smiled, and
continued to wait for Colburne.
"Hope to have the pleasure of receiving you here often," Van Zandt went
on. "Always give you a decent bottle of wine. When the Soulé _cave_
gives out, there are others to be had for the asking. By the way--I beg
a thousand pardons--allow me to offer you a bumper of madeira. You
refuse! Then, sir, permit me the pleasure of drinking your health."
He drank it in a silver goblet, holding as much as a tumbler, to the
astonishment if not to the horror of the temperate Doctor.
"I was remarking, I believe, sir," he resumed, "that I am a descendant
of the venerable Knickerbockers. If you doubt it, I beg leave to refer
you to Colonel Carter, who knew my family in New York. I am sensitive on
the subject in all its bearings. I have a sort of feud, an ancestral
vendetta, with Washington Irving on account of his Knickerbocker's
History of New York. It casts an undeserved ridicule on the respectable
race from which I am proud to trace my lineage. My old mother, sir--God
bless her!--never could be induced to receive Washington Irving at her
house. By the way, I was speaking of Colonel Carter, I think, sir. He's
a judge of old blue blood, sir; comes of an ancient, true-blue cavalier
strain himself; what you might call old Virginia particular. A splendid
man, sir, a born gentleman, an officer to the back-bone, the best
colonel in the service, and soon will be the best general. When he comes
to show himself in field service, these militia-generals will have to
take the back seats. I assume whatever responsibility there may be in
predicting it, and I request you to mark my words. I am willing to back
them with a fifty or so; though don't understand me as being so
impertinent as to offer you a bet--I am perfectly well aware of the
respect due to your clerical profession, sir--I was only supposing that
I might fall into conversation on the subject with a betting character.
I feel bound to tell you how much I admire Captain Colburne, of whom I
think I was speaking. He saw that I was a gentleman and a man of
education. (By the way, did I tell you that I am a graduate of Columbia
College?) He saw that I was above my place in the ranks, and he started
me on my career of promotion. I would go to the death for him, sir. He
is a man, sir, that you can depend on. You know just where to find him.
He is a man that you can tie to."
The Doctor looked gratified at this statement, and listened with visible
interest.
"He would have died in the cause of total abstinence, but for Colonel
Carter," continued Van Zandt. "The Colonel came in when he was at his
lowest."
"Sick!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Has he been sick?"
"Sick, sir? Yes, sir! Wofully broken up--slow bilious typhoid fever--and
wouldn't drink, sir--conscientious against it. 'You _must_ drink, by
----! sir,' says the Colonel; 'you must drink and wear woollen shirts.'
'But,' says the Captain, 'if I drink and get well, my men will drink and
go to hell.' By the way, those were not his exact words, sir. I am apt
to put a little swearing into a story. It's like lemon in a punch. Don't
you think so, sir?--Where was I? Oh, I remember. 'How can I punish my
men,' says the Captain, 'for doing what I do myself?' 'It's none of
their dam business what you do,' says the Colonel. 'If they get drunk
and neglect duty thereby, it's your business to punish them. And if you
neglect duty, it's my business to punish you. But don't suppose it is
any affair of your men. The idea is contrary to the Regulations, sir.'
Those are the opinions of Colonel Carter, sir, an officer, a gentleman
and a philosopher. Nothing but good old Otard brandy and woollen shirts
brought the Captain around--woollen shirts and good old Otard brandy
with the Soule seal on it. He was dying of bilious night-sweats, sir.
Horrible climate, this Louisiana. But perhaps you are acquainted with
it. By the way, I was speaking of Colonel Carter, I believe. _He_ knows
how to enjoy himself. He keeps the finest house and most hospitable
board in this city. He has the prettiest little French--_boudoir_--"
He was about to utter quite another word, but recollected himself in
time to substitute the word _boudoir_, while a saturnine twinkle in his
eye showed that he felt the humor of the misapplication. Then, tickled
with his own wit, he followed up the idea on a broad grin.
"I am more envious of the Colonel's _boudoir_, sir, than of his
commission. Nothing like a trim little French _boudoir_ for a bachelor.
You are a man of the world, sir, and understand me."
And so on, prattling _ad nauseam_, meanwhile pouring down the madeira.
The Doctor, who wanted to say, "Sir, your goose has come for you," had
never before listened to such garrulity nor witnessed such thirst. When
Colburne entered, Van Zandt undertook to introduce the two, although
they met each other with extended hands and friendly inquiries. The
Captain was somewhat embarrassed, knowing that his surroundings were of
a nature to rouse suspicion as to the perfect virtuousness of his life,
and thinking, perhaps in consequence of this knowledge, that the Doctor
surveyed him with an investigating expression. Presently he turned his
eyes on Van Zandt; and, gently as they had been toned by nature, there
was now a something in them which visibly sobered the bacchanalian; he
rose to his feet, saluted as if he were still a private soldier, and
left the room murmuring something about hurrying up dinner. The Doctor
noticed with interest the authoritative demeanor which had usurped the
place of the old New Boston innocence.
"And where is Miss Ravenel?" was of course one of the first questions.
"She is in the city," was the answer.
"Is it possible?" (With a tremendous beating of the heart.)
"Yes. You may suppose that I could not get her to stay behind when it
was a question of re-visiting New Orleans. She is as fierce a rebel as
ever."
Colburne laughed, with the merest shadow of hysteria in his amusement,
and, patriot as he was, felt that he hated Miss Ravenel none the worse
for the announcement. There is a state of the affections in which every
peculiarity of the loved object, no matter how offensive primarily or in
itself, becomes an additional charm. People who really like cats like
them all the better for their cattishness. A mother who dotes on a
deformed child takes an interest in all lame children because they
remind her of her own unfortunate.
"Besides, there was no one to leave her with in New Boston," continued
the Doctor.
"Certainly," assented Colburne in a manifestly cheerful humor.
"But I am truly sorry to see you so thin and pale," the Doctor went on.
"You are suffering from our horrible climate. You positively must be
careful. Let me beg of you to avoid as much as possible going out in the
night air."
Colburne could not help laughing outright at the recommendation.
"I dare say it's good advice," said he. "But when I am officer of the
day I must make my rounds after midnight. It puts me in mind of the
counsel which one of our Union officers who was in the siege of
Vicksburg received from his mother. She told him that the air near the
ground is always unhealthy, and urged him never to sleep lower than the
third story. This to a man who lay on the ground without even a tent to
cover him."
"War is a dreadful thing, even in its lesser details," observed the
Doctor.
"What can I do for you?" asked Colburne after a moment's silence.
"I really don't know at present. Perhaps much. I have come here, of
course, to get together the fragments of my property. I may be glad of
some introductions to the military authorities."
"I will do my best for you. Colonel Carter can do more than I can. But,
in the first place, you must dine with me."
"Thank you; no. I dine at five with a relation of mine."
"Dine twice, then. Dine with me first, for New Boston's sake. You
positively must."
"Well, if you insist, I am delighted of course.--But what a city! I must
break out with my amazement. Who could have believed that prosperous,
gay, bragging New Orleans would come to such grief and poverty! I seem
to have walked through Tyre and witnessed the fulfillment of the
predictions of the prophets. I have been haunted all day by Ezekiel.
Business gone, money gone, population gone. It is the hand of the
Almighty, bringing to shame the counsels of wicked rulers and the
predictions of lying seers. I ask no better proof than I have seen
to-day that there is a Divine Ruler. I hope that the whole land will not
have to pay as heavy a price as New Orleans to be quit of its compact
with the devil. We are all guilty to some extent. The North thought that
it could make money out of slavery and yet evade the natural
punishments of its naughty connivance. It thought that it could use the
South as a catspaw to pull its chestnuts out of the fires of hell. It
hoped to cheat the devil by doing its dirty business over the planter's
shoulders. But he is a sharp dealer. He will have his bond or his pound
of flesh. None of us ought to get off easily, and therefore I conclude
that we shall not."
Now who would suppose that the Doctor had in his mind all the while a
moral lecture to Colburne? Yet so it was: for this purpose had he gone
back to Tyre and Babylon; with this object in view had he descanted on
divine providence and the father of evil. It was his manner to reprove
and warn persons whom he liked, but not bluntly nor directly. He touched
them up gently, around the legs of other people, and over the shoulders
of events which lost their personal interest to most human beings
thousands of years ago. Please to notice how gradually, delicately, yet
surely he descended upon Colburne through epochal spaces of time, and
questions which involved the guilt and punishment of continents.
"Just look at this city," he continued, "merely in its character as a
temptation to this army. Here is a chance for plunder and low
dissipation such as most of your simply educated and innocent country
lads of New England never before imagined. I have no doubt that there is
spoil enough here to demoralize a corps of veterans. I don't believe
that any thing can be more ruinous to a military force than free licence
to enrich itself at the expense of a conquered enemy. There is nobody so
needed here at this moment as John the Baptist. You remember that when
the soldiers came unto him he exhorted them, among other things, to be
content with their wages. I suppose the counsel was an echo of the
military wisdom of his Roman rulers. The greatest blessing that could be
vouchsafed this army would be to have John the Baptist crying night and
day in this wilderness of temptation, Be content with your wages! I
have hardly been here forty-eight hours, and I have already heard
stories of cotton speculations and sugar speculations, as they are slyly
called, yes, and of speculations in plate, pictures, furniture, and even
private clothing. It is sure disgrace and probable ruin. Please to
understand that I am not pleading the cause of the traitors who have
left their goods exposed to these peculations, but the cause of the army
which is thus exposed to temptation. I want to see it subjected to the
rules of honor and common sense. I want it protected from its
opportunities."
The Doctor had not alluded to plundered wine-cellars, but Colburne's
mind reverted to the forty-six emptied bottles of yesterday. John the
Baptist had not made mention of this elegant little dwelling, but this
convicted legionary glanced uneasily over its furniture and gimcracks.
He had not hitherto thought that he was doing any thing irregular or
immoral. In his opinion he was punishing rebellion by using the property
of rebels for the good or the pleasure of loyal citizens. The subject
had been presented to him in a new and disagreeable light, but he was
too fair-minded and conscientious not to give it his instant and serious
consideration. As for the forty-six bottles of wine, he might have
stated, had he supposed it to be worth while, that he had drunk only a
couple of glasses, and that he had quitted the orgie in disgust during
its early stages.
"I dare say this is all wrong," he admitted. "Unquestionably, if any
thing is confiscated, it should be for the direct and sole benefit of
the government. There ought to be a system about it. If we occupy these
houses we ought to receipt for the furniture and be responsible for it.
I wonder that something of the sort is not done. But you must remember
charitably how green most of us are, from the highest to the lowest, in
regard to the laws of war, the rights of conquerors, the discipline of
armies, and every thing that pertains to a state of hostilities. It is
very much as if the Quakers had taken to fighting."
"Oh, I don't say that I am right," answered the Doctor. "I don't pretend
to assert. I only suggest."
"I am afraid there is occasion to offer apologies for my Lieutenant,"
continued Colburne.
"A very singular man. I should say eccentric," admitted the Doctor
charitably.
"He annoys me a good deal, and yet he is a valuable officer. When he is
drunk he is the drunkest man since the discovery of alcohol. He isn't
drunk to-day. You have heard of three-bottle men. Well, Van Zandt is
something like a thirty bottle man. I don't think he has had above two
quarts of sherry this morning. I let him have it to keep him from
swallowing camphene or corrosive sublimate. But with all his drink he is
one of the best officers in the regiment, a good drill-master, a
first-rate disciplinarian, and able to do army business. He takes a load
of writing off my hands. I never saw such a fellow for returns and other
official documents. He turns them off in a way that reminds you of those
jugglers who pull dozens of yards of paper out of their mouths. He was
once a bank accountant, and he has seen five years in the regular army.
That explains his facility with the pen and the musket. Then he speaks
French and Spanish. I believe he is a reprobate son of a very
respectable New York family."
This brief biography of Van Zandt furnished Ravenel the text for a
discourse on the dangers of intemperance, illustrated by reminiscences
of New Orleans society, and culminating in the assertion that
three-quarters of the southern political leaders whom he remembered had
died drunkards. The Doctor was more disposed than most Anglo-Saxons
towards monologue, and he had a mixture of enthusiasm and humor which
made people in general listen to him patiently. His present oration was
interrupted by a mulatto lad who announced dinner.
The meal was elegantly cooked and served. Louisiana has inherited from
its maternal France a delicate taste in convivial affairs, and the
culinary artist of the occasion was he who had formerly ministered to
the instructed appetites of the rebel captain and his Parisian affinity.
To Colburne's mortification Van Zandt had paraded the rarest treasures
of the Soulé wine-cellar; hermitage that could not have been bought then
in New York for two dollars a bottle, and madeira that was worth three
times as much; not to enlarge upon the champagne for the dessert, and
the old Otard brandy for the _pousse-cafe_. He seemed to have got quite
sober, as if by some miracle; or as if there was a fresh Van Zandt
always ready to come on when one got over the bay; and he now
recommenced to get himself drunk again _ab initio_. He governed his
tongue, however, and behaved with good breeding. Evidently he was not
only grateful to Colburne, but stood in professional awe of him as his
superior officer. After dinner, still amazingly sober, although with ten
or twenty dollars' worth of wine in him, he sat down to the piano, and
thundered out some pretty-well executed arias from popular operas.
"Four o'clock!" exclaimed the Doctor. "I have just time to get home and
see my daughter dine. Captain, we shall see you soon, I hope."
"Certainly. What is the earliest time that I can call without
inconveniencing you?"
"Any time. This evening."
The Doctor bade Van Zandt a most amicable good afternoon, but did not
ask him to accompany Colburne in the projected visit.
No sooner was he gone than the Captain turned upon the Lieutenant.
"Mr. Van Zandt, I must beg you to be extremely prudent in your language
and conduct before that gentleman."
"By Jove!" roared Van Zandt, "it came near being the cursedest mess. I
have had to pour down the juice of the grape to keep from fainting."
"What is the matter?"
"Why, Parker brought his ---- cousin here this morning. You've heard of
the girl he calls his cousin? She's in the smoking-room now. I've been
so confoundedly afraid you would show him the smoking-room! I've been
sweating with fright during the whole dinner, and all the time looking
as if every thing was lovely and the goose hung high. She couldn't get
out, you know; the side entrance has never been unlocked yet--no key,
you know."
"What in Heaven's name did you let her in here for?" demanded Colburne
in a passion.
"Why--Parker, you see--I didn't like to insult Parker by refusing him a
favor. He only wanted to leave her while he ran around to head-quarters
to report something. He swore by all his gods that he wouldn't be gone
an hour."
"Well, get her out. See that the coast is clear, and then get her out.
Tell her she must go. And hereafter, if any of my brother officers want
to leave their ---- cousins here, remember, sir, to put a veto on it."
The perspiration stood on his brow at the mere thought of what might
have been the Doctor's suspicions if he had gone into the smoking-room.
Van Zandt went about his delicate errand with a very meek and sheepish
grace. When he had accomplished it, Colburne called him into the
sitting-room and held the following Catonian discourse.
"Mr. Van Zandt, I want you to take an inventory of the furniture of the
house and the contents of the wine-cellar, so that when I leave here I
can satisfy myself that not a single article is missing. We shall leave
soon. I shall make application to-day to have my company quartered in
the custom-house, or in tents in one of the squares."
"Upon my honor, Captain!" remonstrated the dismayed Van Zandt, "I
pledge you my word of honor that nothing of this kind shall happen
again."
He cast a desperate glare around the luxurious rooms, and gave a
mournful thought to the now forbidden paradise of the wine-cellar.
"And I give you mine to the same effect," answered the Captain. "The
debauch of yesterday answers my purpose as a warning; and I mean to get
out of temptation for my sake and yours. Besides, this is no way for
soldiers to live. It is poor preparation for the field. More than half
of our officers are in barracks or tents. I am as able and ought to be
as willing to bear it as they. Make your preparations to leave here at
the shortest notice, and meantime remember, if you please, the
inventory. The company clerk can assist you."
Poor Van Zandt, who was a luxurious brute, able to endure any hardship,
but equally able to revel in any sybaritism, set about his unwelcome
task with a crest-fallen obedience. I do not wish to be understood, by
the way, as insinuating that all or even many of our officers then
stationed in New Orleans were given up to plunder and debauchery. I only
wish to present an idea of the temptations of the place, and to show how
our friend Colburne could resist them, with some aid from the Doctor,
and perhaps more from Miss Ravenel.
As the Doctor walked homeward he put his hand into his pocket for a
handkerchief to wipe his brow, and discovered a paper. It was Colburne's
letter to him, and he read it through as he strolled onward.
"How singular!" he said. "He doesn't even mention that he has been sick.
He is a noble fellow."
The Doctor was too fond of the young man to allow his faith in him to be
easily shaken.