When Roderick and Dr. Entwerfen returned to the camp, they found Edric
most impatiently awaiting their arrival. He was too much agitated to
speak; and the worthy doctor found all his troubles amply repaid by the
interest his friends took in his welfare.
Whilst Dr. Entwerfen was employed in relating his adventures to Edric,
Roderick was occupied by a task far more difficult and important than
any he had yet undertaken, viz. that of organizing and of providing
for the disorderly multitude that had thronged into his camp from the
city: their number was immense; men, women, and children, crowded round
their deliverer, falling upon their knees, blessing him and kissing
the edge of his garments. Roderick was affected even to tears: "For
Heaven's sake, my good friends," said he, "spare me; I have done but my
duty; I have been but an humble instrument in the hands of Providence;
address your thanks to him: there they are due."
Roderick, however, was quite aware it was not enough to have saved
these people: he knew he must do something to provide them with
food and lodging; and that if he did not, when the first moment of
enthusiasm should be passed, unpleasant scenes must inevitably take
place. He accordingly made dispositions to this effect, with a prudence
and sagacity that would have done credit to far more advanced years.
Temporary huts were erected, till the streets of Seville could be
cleared of the ruins that encumbered them, and the houses in some
measure repaired. Shelter for the inhabitants being thus provided,
Roderick harangued the magistrates, directing them to take the people
under their direction. These sapient ministers of justice gladly gave
him possession of the town, which Roderick was too generous to assume
without their permission, and acknowledged themselves and the garrison
prisoners of war. The peasants, when they found the kindness with which
the citizens had been treated, flocked in with provisions, and the camp
of the Irish monarch soon resembled an immense fair.
Alexis had followed his master during the whole of these arrangements,
and had frequently sighed deeply as they proceeded. "What is the matter
with the boy?" said Roderick in one of these moments: "I cannot imagine
why he looks so melancholy!"
The boy enthusiastically clasped his hands together, looking up to
Heaven, as though murmuring an inward prayer.
"What can this mean?" exclaimed Roderick with astonishment.
The boy took his master's hand, pressing it first to his lips, and
then vehemently to his heart, and knelt before him, reverentially
bending his forehead to the earth. The next moment, however, officers
entering for directions, the attention of Roderick was diverted and
Alexis forgotten.
In the mean time, M. de Mallet and his daughter, who had been
exceedingly agitated by the events of the day, thought not of repose,
but sat in the tent prepared for them, conversing upon the merits of
their deliverers.
"I never saw a finer countenance," said M. de Mallet, "so noble, so
animated, and yet so good."
"Good indeed," ejaculated his daughter; "surely if we could believe a
superior spirit would ever descend upon earth, such would be the form
he would assume!"
"How kindly he spoke, and how considerately!" exclaimed the father.
"How attentive he seemed, and how delicate!" rejoined the daughter.
"Such a majestic figure!"
"Such a graceful manner!"
"It is so rare to find such condescension in so great a monarch."
"Monarch!" cried Pauline: "were you speaking of Roderick, father?"
"And of whom were you speaking, child?" returned her father, turning
quickly round, and fixing his eyes upon her.
"Of--of--Mr. Montagu, father," replied Pauline, casting down her eyes
and deeply blushing.
"Pauline!" said M. de Mallet. She started at the sound of her father's
voice, and looked timidly up in his face. "Pauline," repeated he, "my
dear child, beware!"
At this moment a roar of cannon shook the tent; the sound echoed by the
walls of the town, and leaping from hill to hill in lengthened peals,
Pauline sunk upon her knees, hiding her face in her father's lap. "My
child! my beloved child!" cried M. de Mallet, bending over her as
though to shield her from danger, "Heaven defend thee!"
In this painful situation, the father and daughter continued till the
cannonading ceased. All was now still; and awful was the calm that
succeeded such a tumult. Pauline raised her head, and looked fearfully
around. "Come, my child," said her father, "let us endeavour to
ascertain who are victors."
Pauline rose from her knees, and, leaning upon her father's arm,
accompanied him to the opening of the tent; but she shrunk back,
shuddering at the horrid scene that presented itself. Their tent was
situated at the extreme edge of the camp, and commanded a view of the
whole field of battle where the combat of the morning had taken place.
The plain that stretched to their left, lay covered with the bodies
of the dying and the dead, whilst a multitude of horses broken loose,
galloped over the field, plunging, snorting, and crushing beneath their
hoofs, the bodies of their fallen riders.
In some places, the branches of half broken trees strewed the ground,
whilst their mutilated trunks, perforated with shot, remained as
melancholy relics of their former beauty. Swords and helmets, mingled
with overturned waggons and military utensils of all kinds, were
scattered in wild disorder around. The earth, ploughed up by the cannon
balls in deep furrows, save where the ridges had been beaten flat by
the feet of the combatants, looked wild and uneven as the waves of the
mighty ocean arrested in the moment of tempest. Blood lay in pools upon
the ground; and clotted gore, mingled horribly with remnants of human
bones and brains, hung to the still standing bushes, disfiguring the
fair face of nature.
Pauline shuddered, and turned eagerly to the other side of the
landscape, which commanded a view of the town. Here still, however, she
found nothing but death and war. It was the moment when the explosion
of the petard set fire to the wooden bulwark; and Roderick and Edric
leaped through the flames upon the beach. The bright glare of the
blazing bulwarks relieved strongly their dark figures, and Pauline
distinctly saw and recognized them for a moment, though the next they
were lost in a cloud of smoke. She screamed, and grasped her father's
arm in convulsive agony. M. de Mallet was scarcely less agitated than
herself; and, as the smoke cleared away, they saw distinctly through
its flaming volumes, Roderick and Edric upon the breach, opposed by a
crowd of Spaniards, and fighting with inveterate fury. "Roderick is
on his knees," cried M. de Mallet. "But see! he rises suddenly, and
plunges the Spaniard, who had raised his sword to cut him down, into
the flames." Pauline did not speak; but she gasped for breath, and
held her father's arm yet more tightly than before. Edric was now seen
grappling hand to hand with a Spaniard, when the fire and smoke closed
upon him and hid him from their view. The next instant, a tremendous
crash was heard, and loud shouts, followed by a rush of men; it was the
sortie of the besieged.
"Oh, heavens!" cried Pauline, turning pale, and resting her head upon
her father's shoulder, "war is a dreadful thing."
"You are faint, my child," replied M. de Mallet; "this is no fitting
scene for you. Shall we go in?"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Pauline feebly; "I cannot leave the spot." Here
shouts of "Roderick! Roderick for ever! Roderick and glory!" rung in
their ears. Pauline shuddered; a faint sickness crept over her; the
scene seemed to swim before her eyes; and she would have fallen, but
for the supporting arm of her father. At this moment, some soldiers,
carrying a bier, passed at a little distance from the tent. Upon it lay
the body of an officer; his head hung back, his long thick hair was
matted with gore, and a ghastly wound gaped on his uncovered breast.
Pauline could bear no more--she thought it was Edric, and she fell
fainting into her father's arms.
M. de Mallet bore her back into the tent, and as soon as she was
sufficiently recovered to enable him to think of any thing but
herself, he dispatched one of the soldiers, appointed to attend them,
to ascertain if the Irish monarch had escaped. The soldier did not
return; and M. de Mallet, too impatient to remain in his tent, sallied
forth to learn the news himself. Scarcely was he gone, however, when
the soldier's wife, whom he had called to the assistance of Pauline,
perceived the town was on fire. Pauline's agitation now became
excessive; she trembled in every limb, and listened till the sense
of hearing seemed agony. She could not comprehend the cause of the
noise and bustle made by the citizens, as they came crowding into the
camp; she looked forth, but the throng of half naked men, women, and
children, that came hurrying along, seemed inexplicable; she stopped a
woman, who, half dressed, had her clothes tucked up in one hand, whilst
with the other she led two half naked children--"What is the matter?"
asked she. "Roderick," cried the woman bewildered in her grief, "God
bless the noble Roderick!"
"Where are you going?" demanded Pauline of two young men, bearing
between them a bed containing their sick father.
"Roderick!" shouted the pious Spaniards. "Heaven, in its mercy, bless
Roderick!" Pauline was proceeding in her inquiries, though without
the smallest hope of receiving a direct reply, the hearts and minds
of Spaniards being so full of Roderick, that no other name could find
utterance from their lips, when she perceived her father.
"My dearest father!" cried she, running to him; "now I shall know all!
What is the matter?"
"Roderick, the noble Roderick is safe!" repeated M. de Mallet. Pauline
was chagrined--she longed to hear of Edric, and she envied, for his
sake, the renown of the Irish hero. "Can you, too, speak of nothing but
Roderick?" said she, somewhat reproachfully.
"And of whom else should I speak?" replied her father. "Who else
deserves to be spoken of? for surely he is the bravest! the noblest of
men!"
"I do not doubt it," observed Pauline coldly. "Every tongue utters his
praise--every breast swells with gratitude at his goodness--and every
hand is raised to Heaven in prayers on his behalf.
"Have there been many persons killed?" asked Pauline.
"How can you ask so foolish a question?" replied her father. "Do you
not see the ground heaped with slain?"
"But persons of note, I mean?"
"Let me see; I think they said there were the Generals H---- and
M----, and Counts L----, P---- and T----."
"Oh!" groaned Pauline, impatiently.
"And besides, I think they say Mr. Montagu is seriously wounded."
"I feared so!" sighed Pauline, "he is so brave."
"Yes--every one says he is brave, and implores blessings upon his
name--for he saved the life of Roderick!"
Pauline's countenance had beamed with triumph at the commencement of
this sentence; but it rather fell at the conclusion. She did not quite
like her hero to owe his glory to any one but himself.
M. de Mallet continued: "His bravery and nobleness of spirit were
unequalled. Every one praises him. There is certainly something very
extraordinary in the character of the English. Their daring tempers and
love of adventure lead them to quit peace and riches in their native
country, to seek glory and distinction elsewhere. This Mr. Montagu is
really an exalted young man."
Pauline's eyes flashed joy--she felt she loved her father better than
ever--she could have embraced him as he spoke, for the praise of Edric
sounded as the sweetest music in her ears. Strange that so slight an
acquaintance should have produced so strong a passion! but such and so
inexplicable is love.
Pauline had now patience to hear the explanation of her father
respecting Roderick. She even felt pleasure in the repetition of
his exploits, for he was the friend of Edric; and she retired to
rest--happy in herself, and contented with all the world; having been
first assured by her father that the surgeon confidently expected Edric
would soon recover. Pauline, however, would have been very much puzzled
to explain the cause of the excessive contentment that she felt. The
situation of herself and father was as hopeless as ever. They were
still prisoners in a strange land, without fortune, without friends;
but so little does happiness depend upon external circumstances, that
the breast of Pauline seemed to have been a stranger to it till now.
After arranging every thing for the comfort of the refugees and his own
soldiers, Roderick took a few hours of hurried repose. When he rose in
the morning, he sent his compliments to M. de Mallet and his daughter
to demand permission to wait upon them. This was instantly and gladly
accorded, and in a few minutes the Irish hero was in their tent.
"I condole with your Majesty upon the situation of your friend," said
M. de Mallet, the moment he saw him: "I hope he is better."
The monarch smiled; he forgave the abruptness of the question, in
favour of the excellence of the motive, and he replied that Mr. Montagu
was fast recovering. "He regrets exceedingly," added he, "that it is
not in his power to pay his devoirs here"--bowing to Pauline, "and well
can I sympathize with him, as I know what he loses."
Pauline inquired modestly the particulars of the combat. "Upon my word,
Madam," replied Roderick, "I know very little about it."
"I thought your Majesty had been engaged."
"That is the very reason. If I had not, the case might have been
different; but as it was, I only just saw a great many people that
tried to kill me, and a great many that I tried to kill, and the smoke
hid all the rest."
"A very satisfactory account of a battle, upon my word," cried M. de
Mallet, smiling; "but other people saw more of your Majesty's acts than
you did yourself; and they say, you performed prodigies of valour."
"It is very kind of them to say so," said Roderick, "for I am sure it
is more than they know."
"Your Majesty's modesty wishes to throw a veil over your valour,"
observed Pauline, "but luckily it cannot be concealed."
"Your praises, Madam, would make any man a coxcomb," returned the
Monarch: "I own I have not the courage to refuse commendations from
your lips."
Pauline blushed--she fancied she had said too much, and now remained
silent.
"I cannot describe how much I admire your Majesty's leniency to
the inhabitants of the city," said M. de Mallet: "it proves your
benevolence is equal to your valour, though indeed it was sound policy
to act as you have done; for by this you have conciliated the hearts of
the Spaniards; whereas, if you had exercised any cruelty, they would
have risen against you _en masse_; but this, I dare say, your Majesty
considered."
"Indeed," replied Roderick smiling, "my Majesty considered no
such thing; I only thought as a man: I did not like to see my
fellow-creatures burnt to death, or poniarded if they attempted to
escape; I should not have liked it at all, if I had been in a similar
situation, and so I did all in my power to save them--that is all I
know about the matter. But to change the subject, I have a great favour
to beg of you, Mademoiselle de Mallet."
"What is it?" asked Pauline: "your Majesty has only to speak to be
obeyed."
"Oh! for Heaven's sake do not talk of obedience--it is I who should
obey--I only ask a favour, and that is, that you will permit me to
bring Dr. Entwerfen to kneel at your feet and kiss your fair hand, in
token of his homage."
"I would not advise Pauline to let him kneel," said M. de Mallet
laughing, "as I fear, if she does, there will be some difficulty in
getting him up again."
"Your Majesty's commands,--" said Pauline.
"Do not talk of commands," interrupted Roderick; "I hate the word."
"Your Majesty's wishes, then," continued Pauline smiling, "shall be
complied with."
"This evening, then," cried the gay monarch, "the doctor shall make his
appearance. Till then, adieu!"
"Will your Majesty have the kindness to present my best wishes to Mr.
Montagu for his recovery," requested M. de Mallet.
"Certainly," replied Roderick; "but am I to tell Edric that
Mademoiselle de Mallet has no wishes for his welfare?"
"I wish--I hope--that is, I think----" stammered Pauline.
"My daughter means her sentiments are exactly similar to my own
upon the subject," said M. de Mallet gravely; for he was not at all
pleased with the interpretation he thought the King might put upon the
embarrassment of his daughter.
"Very well!" repeated Roderick provokingly: "I shall tell Edric, that
M. de Mallet and his daughter think exactly alike of him.--That is it,
is it not?"
M. de Mallet was about to reply, when the King, nodding and waving his
hand, bade them adieu, and hurried away. "I don't know what to make of
the Irish hero," said M. de Mallet, the moment he had left them. "With
all his good qualities, there is something very strange about him: I
don't know what to make of him!"
Pauline sighed assent; though she did know what to make of him very
well, for she fancied he saw, and ridiculed her partiality for Edric.
This idea roused every spark of pride in her nature; she could not
bear the thought of being supposed to give her love unsought, and she
determined when she next saw Roderick to show by her coldness and
indifference, when Edric was mentioned, how completely he had been
deceived.
When Roderick left the tent of M. de Mallet, he returned to Edric, whom
he found pale and feeble.
"You are the happiest fellow in existence, Edric!" said he: "I would
willingly give all my glory, and even my demoniacal renown, that the
Spaniards talk so much about, to be able to call up such blushes to the
cheek of beauty as your name can raise. Oh! if you had seen Pauline. By
Heaven! she is the loveliest creature I ever beheld in my life!"
As he spoke, Alexis, the Greek page, who had been crouching rather than
sitting at the foot of Edric's couch, resting his head upon his hands,
and looking absorbed in grief, uttered a faint cry, and rushed out of
the tent.
"There is something very extraordinary about that boy," said Roderick,
looking after him.
"There is, indeed," replied Edric, "and I have something that I wish to
communicate to you respecting him:" and in a few words he related what
had passed the preceding night in the tent.
"Impossible!" cried Roderick, "you must have been dreaming, Edric! What
communication would the boy hold with Alvarez? You know he is dumb.
Besides, even if Alvarez were inclined to plot against me, he is too
prudent and reserved to make a confidant of a beardless boy!"
"I simply relate the facts as they occurred," said Edric; "I do not
pretend to explain them. But I can assure you, I was neither dreaming
nor delirious."
"It is very strange!" repeated Roderick musing, "and it corresponds
remarkably with what I have observed myself." For some moments he
remained lost in thought; but it was not in his gay and joyous nature
to suffer anything to depress him long; and the next instant, Alexis
was forgotten.
The fall of Seville, and the destruction of the army sent to defend it,
produced a powerful effect upon the destinies of Spain. The Cortes
again sent ambassadors to negotiate with the Irish hero; but, taught by
experience, he now received them haughtily, refusing to treat with them
but as a conqueror; and to put his threats in execution he determined
to advance immediately upon Madrid.
"We must follow up our victory," said he to Edric, after he had
somewhat contemptuously dismissed the deputies from the shattered
remnant of their allied army, who came to sue humbly at his feet for
peace. "These people are treacherous beyond description. They do not
understand leniency, and they must be treated with sword in hand. I am
thoroughly tired of them; their fickleness and uncertainty have quite
disgusted me; I will therefore march to Madrid, establish Don Pedro as
their sovereign, and take my leave of them for ever."
"I am rejoiced to hear it!" exclaimed Edric. "You will then return to
Ireland, and devote your time to your own subjects."
"I will try to satisfy them as well as I can; but as perfection cannot
be expected all at once, you must not be surprised if some day I
should fly off in a tangent, and take it into my head to colonize the
moon."
Edric laughed: "If you promise to wait till then," said he, "I shall be
satisfied."
"You may not find my project so wild as it appears," rejoined Roderick.
"The moon is a very pretty, mild, modest-looking planet, and I must own
I should like amazingly to see what kind of inhabitants she contains;
and if I should determine to go there, here is a gentleman who I am
sure will be quite ready to accompany me."
Dr. Entwerfen entered the tent as he spoke. "Of what was your Majesty
speaking?" asked he.
"Of a voyage to the moon," said Roderick. "Will you go with me?"
"With all my heart," cried the little doctor, rubbing his hands and
looking all glee at the thought.
"There, I told you so," said Roderick, laughing.
"I should have thought the many adventures you have met with had cured
your passion for travelling," rejoined Edric.
"Cured him! Given him a zest for it, you mean," replied Roderick. "The
appetite for travelling always grows with what it feeds upon; and
though the doctor may boast
'That he _has_ fair Seville seen.
So _is_ a traveller, I ween,'
yet I do not doubt but that he is just as eager to explore new places
as ever."
"Yes," returned the doctor, "I certainly did see Seville."
"Every part of it, my dear fellow, from its palaces to its dungeons,"
resumed Roderick; "nay, I believe you were very near being indulged
with a view of its ropes."
The doctor did not quite relish this raillery. "I can assure your
Majesty--"
"_Apropos de bottes_," cried Roderick, interrupting him, "I had
entirely forgotten I promised to introduce you to Mademoiselle de
Mallet. We will go now. Will you accompany us, Edric? I am sorry to
ask you to do any thing so disagreeable; but I think it will be but
decent to kiss hands, take leave, and all that sort of thing, before
we set out for Madrid: besides, it may be as well to make some kind of
provision as to what is to become of them in our absence."
"Then you will not take them with you?" said Edric, despondingly.
"Who ever heard of such a thing?" cried Roderick; "How could I possibly
ask the lovely Pauline to endure the inconveniences of travelling with
a camp? I really have not the assurance to attempt it."
Edric sighed deeply; and his countenance assumed an expression of so
much melancholy that Roderick laughed immoderately: "I could not have
believed it possible," cried he, "that you could ever become such a
sighing Strephon; the thing's incredible!"
"The pain of my wounds," said Edric, blushing; for even philosophers
don't like to be laughed at.
"The pain in your heart!" repeated Roderick, mimicking him. "But,
come! come! I can pity you. I have been in love at least fifty times
myself--so I know what it is."
"But I am not in love," remonstrated Edric.
"Denial is one of the most dangerous symptoms," resumed Roderick,
gravely. "Experienced physicians rarely think their patients really
ill, till they are not conscious of it themselves. Let me feel your
pulse."
"Psha," said Edric, impatiently.
"Will you go then!" asked Roderick, laughing; and to avoid being
farther tormented by his raillery, Edric hastily rose from his couch,
and declared himself ready to attend him. The injuries he had received,
having been only flesh wounds inflicted with a sabre, had now nearly
healed; and the only change they had produced in his appearance,
had been to make him look more pale and interesting, one arm being
supported by a sling, and a bandeau bound round his forehead. Pauline's
eyes sparkled when she saw him, in spite of her intended indifference;
and she could not command her voice so entirely, but that its tremulous
tone betrayed her inward agitation.
Edric's eyes also involuntarily expressed his pleasure; whilst the gay
laugh and arch look of Roderick told that he was perfectly aware of
what was passing in the mind of each. Doctor Entwerfen, however, saw
nothing of the kind, his mind being quite absorbed in the delightful
contemplation of his own glory. He had been presented to M. de Mallet
by Roderick, as "his friend and counsellor, the learned and justly
celebrated Dr. Entwerfen;" and that moment seemed a sufficient reward
for a whole life of misery, the doctor's ecstasy upon the occasion
being so unbounded, that he neither knew what he did nor what he said.
Whilst Roderick had been speaking, indeed, he had been in perfect
agony; stretching himself out on tiptoe, opening his hands and closing
them again with every sentence, as though bursting with impatience to
speak, that he might by his eloquence confirm the monarch's eulogium,
yet trembling every instant lest he should interrupt it.
M. de Mallet had been a dabbler in scientific experiments in his youth,
and, pleased to find a person who could talk to him, and understand
his ideas upon the subject, he soon drew the doctor on one side,
leaving his younger friends to be entertained by his daughter.
"I am glad, very glad, to see you so soon recovered," said Pauline,
addressing Edric in a gentle tone; "I feared, that is, my father
feared, your wounds were more serious."
"You see, Edric," cried Roderick archly, "it is as I said--Mademoiselle
de Mallet feels for you exactly the same interest as her father does."
"I should be flattered by exciting any interest in so gentle a bosom,"
sighed Edric, looking at her tenderly.
Pauline sighed too--involuntarily, but remained silent.
"Do you then feel no interest in my behalf?" continued Edric; "not even
the cold, chilling feeling sanctioned by your father?"
"Oh! call not the interest my father feels for you cold or chilling!"
exclaimed Pauline with energy, "I am sure--that is, I think--" and
here, fearing she had said too much, she stopped abruptly, totally
unable to proceed.
"Oh, go on!" exclaimed Edric, gazing earnestly upon her blushing
face--"go on, I could listen to you for ever!"
Pauline trembled, blushed, and hesitated. "I--I--I think I had better
go to my father," stammered she after a short pause.
Roderick smiled: "By all means!" said he. "Don't you think so, Edric?"
Edric did not reply; for in fact he did not hear the question; whilst
poor Pauline's agitation increased, and her colour changed rapidly
every moment: she dreaded Roderick's raillery, and trembled so
violently that she could scarcely stand.
At this moment her father returned; he looked at his daughter with
some surprise, and then, turning to his guests, he apologized for her
abstraction. "My daughter is unused to camps," said he, "and the scenes
she has lately gone through have been too much for her nerves."
"She will now have an opportunity of recovering herself," replied
Roderick; "my army will move forward to-morrow, and if you will accept
the post, I will leave you governor of this city, with a sufficient
garrison to keep it on my behalf."
Pauline turned deathly pale as he spoke, and every hope of happiness
seemed to fly from her breast for ever.
M. de Mallet, however, was not at all aware of his daughter's anguish;
and, thanking the king gratefully for the high honour conferred upon
him, his fancy began to revel by anticipation in the delights of
governorship; and in ten minutes he had arranged in his mind as many
improvements and alterations as it would take fifty years to accomplish.
"Farewell," continued Roderick, "I trust we shall meet again, if
not here, at least in another and a better world. Permit me, lady!"
continued he, slightly touching with his lips the pallid cheek of
Pauline. "To-morrow with the dawn we advance, and we have so much to do
ere then, that we must deny ourselves the pleasure of again enjoying
your society. Farewell, Governor, you will find the necessary papers
to install you here," (giving him a packet) "and the soldiers have
orders to obey you as myself. Come, Edric."
Edric advanced, and bowing, took the hand of Pauline and pressed it
respectfully to his lips;--his heart was too full to speak. Pauline
could scarcely restrain her tears, and shaking hands with the doctor,
she hastily retired to a part of the tent enclosed for her use.
"My daughter is not well," said M. de Mallet, "these scenes of blood
and war are too much for her nerves; but she will soon recover when you
have left us."
"I doubt that," murmured Roderick in a half whisper; and soon after the
friends retired. Edric was not insensible to Pauline's emotion; and as
he more than suspected the cause, a pleasure, unknown before, throbbed
in his bosom. His eyes sparkled, and his whole appearance presented so
complete a contrast to his usual depression, that Roderick could not
resist the temptation of again rallying him most unmercifully upon it.
"Talk of medicine," cried he, "there is no elixir like the magic of a
pair of bright eyes. All the physicians in my camp can effect nothing
like it. Nay, you need not blush so, Edric! I did not imagine you were
so far gone as that."
"I do not blush, that I am aware of," returned Edric, somewhat
peevishly; for he did not relish being teased; "at least, I am sure I
have no occasion for blushing."
"Well, then, don't look so like a bashful maiden, disavowing her first
attachment, with a 'La, Pa! how can you think so!'--I did not suppose
you were capable of such affectation."
"I am not aware that I have been guilty of any."
"Come, then, own the truth candidly--you love Mademoiselle de Mallet?"
"How can you think so?" replied Edric, blushing deeply in spite of his
efforts to look composed.
"You are indifferent to her, then? Dear me, I had no idea of it, I
never was more completely deceived in my life! Well, if that's the
case, I will resume my first design of trying my own fortune."
"How can you be so provoking?"
"Why it is very hard, if you are not in love with her yourself, that
you should wish to prevent every one else from being so."
"Your Majesty's rank, I should think, would prevent your even thinking
of Mademoiselle de Mallet."
"Why should my rank prevent the possibility of my being happy?"
"Your Majesty's rank prevents the possibility of your marrying Pauline;
and I should hope you would not dare to entertain dishonourable views
respecting her."
"Dare! dishonour! Do you remember whom you are speaking to, Edric?"
"Perfectly; for I have not forgotten Roderick, though he appears to
have forgotten himself."
"Edric! But I won't be angry with you. When people are in love, they
never mean what they say; in fact, they very seldom know what they are
talking about. I remember once when I was in love myself--"
Alexis, who had waited at the entrance of the tent during the visit his
master had paid to M. de Mallet, and was now following them, sighed
heavily at this remark. Roderick heard him;--"What is the matter with
the boy?" said he: "Were you ever in love, Alexis?" The page sighed yet
more deeply than before, and, crossing his arms upon his breast, bent
his head in token of assent.
"It is to be much lamented you cannot tell us all about it," continued
Roderick; "for you could never choose a more fitting moment for such
a tale; as you may depend upon the sympathy of Mr. Montagu, even if I
should be so barbarous as to refuse you mine:--
'We pity faults to which we feel inclined,
And to our proper failings can be kind;'
as one of your own poets says. Eh, Edric! Don't you think he's right?"
"I think you are very provoking."
"That is because I am touching upon a string that happens to be not
quite in tune; so no wonder it jars a little. Do you not remember the
old proverb?
'Touch a man whose skin is sound,
He will stand, and fear no wound:
Touch a man when he is sore,
He will start, and bear no more.'"
"How can you condescend to repeat such nonsense?" cried Edric,
indignantly. "It is unworthy the poorest beggar in your dominions!"
"And how can you condescend to be moved at such nonsense, Edric?"
replied Roderick, laughing. "Come, come! own the truth, for it is
useless to attempt any longer to deny it. Say, candidly, that you are
in love with Mademoiselle de Mallet, and I will tease you no longer."
"In love is too strong a term. I admire, esteem, and respect
Mademoiselle de Mallet. I even think her possessed of a thousand charms
and a thousand virtues; but as to being in love----"
"Well, well! we will not quarrel about words. I do not think you
will ever make a romantic lover. You Englishmen are too reasoning and
prudent ever to fall violently in love. Your blood is as cold as your
climate. Now we take the thing quite differently; with us love is a
devouring flame! a fire that absorbs our whole being--a stream that
sweeps every thing before it--a madness--a delirium! In short, I don't
know what it is!"
"I think not," said Edric, dryly.
"Psha, psha!" continued Roderick; "if it could be described, it would
not be worth feeling. It is all spirit! all soul! if you tie it down to
rules, it evaporates. Don't you think so in Greece, Alexis?"
The page bowed, and shaking his head, pressed his finger upon his lips.
"True," returned his master; "I had forgotten: but if you cannot speak,
you can write. Take these tablets, I should like to know your opinion."
The page took the tablets, and wrote with astonishing rapidity--"Since
your Majesty condescends to ask my opinion, I think that the love
which can stay to reason, or hesitates to sacrifice every thing to the
beloved object, does not deserve the name."
"Bravo, my little hero!" cried Roderick, tapping him upon the shoulder;
"spoken like a true Greek. An Irishman, however, would have said nearly
the same."
The boy's slender figure trembled in every nerve at his master's touch,
and his cheeks were flushed with unwonted passion, though his eyes
remained fixed upon the ground, from which indeed he rarely raised
them. Roderick gazed upon him a few minutes in silence, as though he
wished to read his inmost soul. Then turning abruptly to Dr. Entwerfen,
who had taken no part in the last conversation, he demanded gaily what
he was thinking of.
"I was thinking, your Majesty," said the doctor, gravely, "that it is a
long way from hence to Madrid, and that it will be very fatiguing for
your men to march so far."
"Upon my word, doctor," said Roderick, laughing, "you have really
made a most sublime discovery, and I perfectly agree with you in the
justice of your conclusions."
"That being granted," continued the doctor, "if any means could be
devised by which your army could be transported to the gates of the
city without the trouble of walking there, it would be a good thing."
"Certainly," said the King; "the fact does not admit of a dispute."
"The only difficulty is to contrive how it is to be done," resumed the
doctor, musing.
"Ay, there's the rub," cried Roderick, laughing immoderately; "however,
if any one can do it, I'm sure you can, my dear doctor. So rally your
energies and consider the best means of commencing operations: I am
sure, if you exert yourself, you cannot fail of success."
"Your Majesty does me honour, and I will endeavour to prove I am not
undeserving of the confidence you repose in me," said the little
doctor, drawing up himself to his full height, and puffing out his
cheeks as he walked on absorbed in meditation. "I have it," cried he,
suddenly stopping short; "what does your Majesty think of an immense
raft?"
"Excellent, my dear doctor! I see but three objections to making one
large enough to convey the whole army:--First, that we have no timber
to make it of;--secondly, we have no horses to draw it;--and thirdly,
the roads are not wide enough to admit it."
"Balloons would do, but we have them not," resumed the doctor, still
profoundly cogitating, with his eyes fixed upon the ground, and his
hands in his breeches-pockets.
"What think you of packing the soldiers up in bombs, and shooting them
out of mortars?" asked Roderick.
"Your Majesty is pleased to jest," observed the doctor, gravely; "but
ridicule is not argument."
"Certainly not," replied the King; "and you mistake me greatly if you
thought I meant to ridicule your plan. I only wished to remark that I
feared it would be rather difficult to put it in execution."
"That which can be accomplished without difficulty," said the doctor,
solemnly, "is scarcely worth the trouble of undertaking, and quite
below the consideration of a man of genius. Difficulties to a man of
science are but incentives to action."
"Most sensibly observed, my dear doctor," cried Roderick; "however, as
we have now reached our tent, I must leave you to contrive some plan
to bring us back from Madrid, as I am afraid we cannot wait now to put
your designs in practice to enable us to get there: we must march with
the dawn. Of course you will accompany us."
"Certainly!" returned the doctor, still musing; then muttering to
himself--"I don't much like the plan of shooting off the soldiers, it
would take such large mortars and so much gunpowder:--however, there is
no knowing what might be done: I will think of it:"--he retired to his
tent, though no sleep visited his eyes that night, so completely had
the idea of packing up the soldiers in bombs taken possession of his
imagination.
Roderick's arrangements were soon made, for Nature had certainly
intended him for a general. His intelligent mind foresaw every thing,
and provided against every contingency. Brave in the field, and
prudent in council, the only fault of Roderick as a soldier was that
he sometimes suffered himself to be carried away by his ardour when
it would have been wiser to delay. But this very impetuosity had its
charms in the eyes of his soldiers, as he never hesitated to expose
himself to the same dangers or to undergo the same privations as
themselves, and they would all have followed him willingly into the
very jaws of destruction.
After arranging every thing for the morning's march, the Irish hero
snatched a few hours of repose. With the dawn, however, the drums beat
the reveillée, and the Irish army left Andalusia to advance by rapid
marches upon Madrid.