ULRICK, COUNT OF MERODE.
Let us see how these two lovers conducted themselves towards the fair
sisters whom they had entrapped;--the ruffian, who was laudably
ambitious of becoming a count; and the count, who was in no way
ashamed of being esteemed an accomplished ruffian.
At the narrow path indicated by Bandolo, his accomplice Bernhard had
wheeled off towards the castle of Fredricksort, and its square
outline, with little minarets at the angles, soon rose before the
riders. High and sloping bastions faced with stone, surrounded by
stockades and bristling with brass cannon, enclosed this stately
castle, the lights of which were visible between the trees and
plantations with which the fields were interspersed.
"My father--my father!" murmured Gabrielle, whipping on her horse;
"but where is Ernestine? Ah, Heavens! I do not hear the hoofs of
her horse, nor those of the doctor's nag. Ah me, if they should lose
the way, and fall among Danes! Does your master know the country
well?"
"Well? none know it better between the gulf of Lïïm and the Elbe; but
now that we are arrived, I pray you to rein in your horse, lady, lest
the sentinels fire on us."
They were now close to the fosse, the bridge of which was drawn up;
beyond it, a deep archway yawned in the fortifications, and near it
the figure of a soldier was dimly visible. He challenged in pure
German.
In the same language Bernhard replied, and in her eagerness Gabrielle
did so too. On hearing a woman's voice, there was a shout of
laughter from the sentinels, and from several soldiers of the
barrier-guard, who were loitering at the gate, and smoking their long
German pipes. The bridge was lowered, and, as soon as the travellers
had crossed, it was raised again; a lantern was brought from the
guard-house, and Gabrielle found herself surrounded by soldiers--by
Merodeurs!--or the Merodistas, as the Spaniards named them--a term
now synonymous with one of the greatest of human crimes--for such was
the atrocious character of the regiment of Merodé.
"Merodeurs!" said Gabrielle, shrinking back on seeing the ferocious
visages, the ragged uniforms, and the rusty corslets of those who
surrounded her, with their features seamed by scars, bloated by beer,
and their eyes expressive of the most cruel and sinister thoughts
that could animate the minds of men, hardened by civil crime, by the
camp and the jail, the scourge and the fetter, the riddlings of
Vienna, the scum of European wars--for murderers, deserters, and
vagabonds of every description, readily found pay, plunder, and
service in the ranks of Merodé--where they hardened each other afresh
by their ferocious example. At times they quarrelled with each other
on parade, and even when before the enemy, and exchanged a few
slashes and shots in the colonel's presence. Their officers were all
broken gamesters, hardened roués and high-born desperadoes; but the
greatest and the worst was the count himself. Such was the battalion
of Merodé; and never, perhaps, since an army was constituted, were a
thousand such rascals assembled under baton, to surpass the cruelties
of Nero, and disgrace the glorious profession of arms.
"Bernhard, your master told us that the castle was occupied by my
father's regiment of horse."
But Master Bernhard did not hear Gabrielle's expostulating tone: for
having recognised several old acquaintances of the Prison-house and
Rasp-haus among the Merodeurs, he was engaged in a lively
conversation, the slang terms of which made it totally
incomprehensible to the startled girl, who had now some secret
misgivings of betrayal and misfortunes to come. However, she
dismounted without assistance, and addressing one whom, by his ample
scarf and boots edged with lace, she recognised to be a sergeant,
said,--
"Lead me immediately to the count--for it is most improper that I
should loiter here."
"This way, then, madame," said the halberdier, with a bow which
Gabrielle mistook for politeness, as she did not perceive how he
winked to one soldier, thrust his tongue in his cheek to another,
poked a third in the ribs, and set the whole guard laughing as he
guided her into the body of the fortress; but she heard them
saying--"Oho Kaspar! 'tis a girl who seeks the count."
"Der Teufel! ha! ha!"
"For so dainty a bird, what a taste she must have! Old Schwindler."
"I warrant me, Schwaschbückler, the count will scarcely have eyes
even for so pretty a woman by this time."
"Ah, my Heavens!" sighed the poor girl, appalled by these brutal
observations; "my poor father must indeed be dying, or discipline
would never be so relaxed. And Ernestine--where is she loitering?
Quick--quick, good sir! conduct me to the count."
The sergeant, who did not seem quite so bad as his comrades, led her
straight towards a hall, the uproar proceeding from which made her
poor little heart sink within her.
"Oh, if my misgivings become verified! It is impossible that my
father can be in life," she thought; "if so, neither in camp nor
quarters dare even the Merodeurs have been so outrageous and
disorderly."
The hall was lighted, partly by flambeaux placed here and there
irregularly, and partly by an enormous fire that blazed in the wide
chimney, and was fed by doors and shutters, &c., brought from other
parts of the edifice. The tapestry with which it was hung, and which
represented the wars of Frederick II. with the Ditmarschen, was torn
down in some places, leaving the bare wall exposed; in others, the
fragments yet remaining were waving in the currents of air that
floated through the vast apartment, and made the wavering flambeaux
stream like yellow ribands.
At the long table nearly a dozen of Merodé's officers were seated at
a debauch, which seemed to have lasted pretty long. All were richly,
even magnificently dressed, and had their long curled hair and
mustaches dressed to perfection. Their doublets, cloaks, and
breeches were of the newest fashion, and of the finest Florence silk
and Genoa velvet; and the enormous chains of pure gold which
encircled their necks, and to which their crucifixes, miraculous
medals, and jewelled poniards were attached, amply proved, that on
the march they could help themselves to occasional trinkets as freely
as their soldiers and camp-followers. Many of them were noble in
feature and in bearing; but recklessness, defiance, debauchery, and
crime were stamped heavily and ineffaceably on every brow, and in the
lack-lustre expression of every drunken eye. Those who sat by the
large table were absorbed in the chances of several
games--(Post-and-pair, Tric Trac, and Ombre); their minds were wholly
occupied, and they were watching the turns of fortune, with their
bleared and bloodshot eyes fixed on those pieces of painted
pasteboard, which had already cost one of their number his life; for
on the floor there lay a cavalier, whose right hand yet grasped an
unsheathed rapier. Gabrielle thought him intoxicated, but a cry
almost escaped her on perceiving that he was ghastly, stiff, and
dead; that his unclosed eyes were turned back within their sockets,
and his long fair hair was clotted by blood. Near him sat the slayer
in his shirt sleeves, binding up a thrust which he had recently
received in the sword arm, and whistling the while with a grim
expression on his sunburnt visage. It was evident that a brawl had
interrupted the gambling--that one of their number had been slain;
but so intent were the Merodeurs on their favourite amusement, that
they had quietly resumed their play without even removing the
corpse--a terrible illustration of their reckless ferocity and
familiarity with outrage.
In the dark shadow which obscured the lower end of the hall Gabrielle
passed unnoticed, and her light step was unheard. From thence the
halberdier conducted her along several passages, and then stopped
before a door, over which swung a lamp.
"In that chamber you will find the count," said he, pointing to the
door.
"My father--my father!" said Gabrielle in a soft and almost
breathless voice; "at last--at last--oh, my father!" she sprung
forward, and, opening the door, entered the room--not, as she
expected, to throw herself by the sick couch of her father, and to
embrace him with all the gush of filial tenderness that welled up in
her pure and joyous heart, but to find herself folded with ardour to
the breast of a stranger.
"Oh, horror!" she murmured, as the light left her eyes, for she was
in the arms of the terrible Ulrick, Count of Merodé!