MADAME FOR THE LAST TIME
Since leaving the La Chaises' Jeanne had seen nothing of her uncle and
aunt, so she supposed that they had withdrawn from the city when General
Pemberton had issued the order for the non-combatants to leave. One
afternoon amid the rush and explosion of the shells, cries and screams
arose--the screams of women amid the shrieks of the falling shells. Their
curiosity getting the better of their timidity, Jeanne and Bob resolved to
find out what was the matter.
"Then I will go too," said Dick, "if you are resolved upon going, but I
think it is foolhardy."
"Let's go," cried Bob. "I am so tired of this damp, ill-smelling, earthy
home that I almost think I would welcome death as a change. Let's go."
The three started forth, dodging the shells as they walked. Presently
they came to a cave in a side hill around which a number of people were
gathered.
"What has happened?" asked Dick of a man.
"It's the cave of the Vances and the La Chaises," was the answer. "Some
shells struck the ground above and it caved in burying them. We don't know
whether they are dead or alive."
With an exclamation of horror Dick darted forward.
"A spade," he cried. "A spade, or a pick, or a shovel! Anything that will
dig! Why do you stand here, men?"
"We can't work with the shells flying around us," growled a man.
"You are not any more likely to be hit while working than you are standing
still," cried the boy. "Get something quick!"
Moved by his earnestness the men obtained picks, shovels, spades, and
anything that would move the dirt, and in spite of the flying shells
began to dig out the unfortunate persons. Pale as death Jeanne stood
by, clinging to Bob, unwilling to leave the spot until she could learn
their condition. Her resentment toward her uncle and aunt was overcome by
the great catastrophe that had overtaken them.
Mr. Vance was found first. He was quite dead, as were also Mr. and Mrs. La
Chaise. Madame Vance was alive but had sustained mortal injuries so that
her death was but a question of a few moments. Her eyes lighted up when
they fell upon Dick.
"My boy," she cried feebly, "you did like me, didn't you?"
"Indeed I did, Cherie," and Dick took the poor crushed form into his arms.
"I knew it," she whispered looking at him lovingly. "Forgive me, Dick,
that I used you so. I wanted you to think as I did."
"It is all forgiven," said the boy tenderly. "Here is Jeanne, Cherie. Have
you no word for her?"
"No," said Madame. "I never liked her. She was a child, but she took you
from me, my boy.
"There is the property," said Madame suddenly to Jeanne. "That Yankee
General seized it in your name and declared that he should hold it for
you. It was to pay us for putting it in your name. It is yours, but I
want Dick to have it. Will you give it to him?"
"Yes," answered Jeanne her tender heart very full of sympathy for her
aunt's sufferings. "I will do whatever you desire, dear Cherie."
"Then give him the property and leave me with him. I don't want to die. It
is so cold. So cold! Where are you, Dick?"
"Here," and Dick held her tenderly.
"It is getting dark. My boy,--ah!" a gasp and all was over.
That night as the moon shed its softening rays over the besieged city,
a little cortege consisting of Mr. Huntsworth, Dick, Aunt Sally, Jeanne,
Bob and a few servants came forth from the cave to perform the last sad
rites for all that remained of Mr. Vance, Madame and their relatives.
Even in the softening light of the moon the blighting hand of warfare was
visible over the town. The closed and desolate houses, the gardens with
gates half open in which were the loveliest flowers and verdure! The
carelessness of appearance and evident haste of departure was visible
everywhere, the inhabitants feeling only anxiety for their personal safety
and the strength of their cave homes.
The guns were still and peace for a time reigned over the troubled city.
The stars shone coldly down upon them, twinkling as brightly as though
no great strife was being waged beneath them.
Jeanne's tears were falling fast as she walked back by Dick's side in the
cool fresh air of the morning.
"Dick," she whispered, detaining him as the others entered the cave, "you
don't harbor any bitterness toward me, do you?"
"Toward you, Jeanne? No;" and Dick folded her in a close embrace. "Why
did you think so?"
"You have been so still, so quiet since Aunt Clarisse died that I feared
that you thought me to blame in some way."
"No, no, sister. I have been thinking of Cherie, and of what a mixture
she was of tenderness and vindictiveness. I thought once that I should
never forgive her for turning me against you, and for trying to wean me
from my country."
"But you do forgive her, don't you, Dick? She is dead now and can never
harm us any more."
"Yes; I forgave her when she was lying there in my arms," said Dick. "But
I will never forget how good you have been, Jeanne. You stood by me as
no sister ever stood by a brother before. Why, had it not been for you I
might have been made to sign that paper."
"I do not believe that you ever would," cried Jeanne.
"And you saved me," and Dick kissed her tenderly. "How proud father and
mother will be of you, Jeanne."
"Do you think that we shall ever see them again?" asked the girl
mournfully.
"Yes, I do," said Dick positively. "I feel sure that the city will be
taken soon. It cannot hold out much longer. The soldiers have only pea
soup to live on now, and men can't fight on a diet like that. Oh, if I
were only in it!" and the boy looked wistfully over at the Federal fleet
as it lay on the broad bosom of the river. "My place is there, and yet
here I am mewed up like a girl! If ever I do get out I'll pepper the rebs
for this."
"If the Federals take the city you will soon be free," comforted Jeanne.
"Come, you must go to your rest," said Dick. "Isn't it fine the way we
are giving it to them, Jeanne? I just stand and watch those shells in
wonder. General Grant has worked for months for this and now the end is
near."
"What makes you so positive, Dick?"
"Yesterday there were some people who tried to pass out," answered the
boy. "They sent a flag of truce to the Federals asking permission to
enter their lines, and Grant sent back word to stay quietly in the city
as he would be in possession the Fourth of July. And he will, Jeanne.
Mark my words, if Grant says so, he will be here."
"Oh, Dick," and Jeanne clapped her hands for joy.
"Hush! not a word," said Dick. "I am sorry for these people. They are nice
folks, and Bob will never get over it. But of course we just had to win."
"I wonder where Snowball is," mused Jeanne, as she retired.
The morning brought the answer. As the shelling was resumed with more
frequency than ever for the delay, a number of negroes rushed into the
cave.
"We 'longs ter yer now," said Snowball acting as spokesman for the others.
"Hyar's me, an' Jeff, an' Feliciane, lill' missy. Missus Adele's niggas
done gone ter her folks, an' we reckoned we 'longed ter yer an' Massa
Dick."
"To me?" exclaimed Jeanne bewildered. "Why, what in the world will I do
with you all?"
"Dunno. Yer'll hab ter take keer ob us, I reckon," and Snowball seated
herself on the floor in happy unconsciousness of the fact that taking care
of them implied any responsibility. "You won't whip us nohow. Will yer,
lill' missy?"
"I certainly won't do that," answered Jeanne, "but it will be a problem
to feed you."
And so it proved. Supplies were running very low in the city. Starvation
stared the inhabitants in the face. And yet, despite the privations and
the constant play of artillery and musketry through every minute of the
day, when Minie balls were accompanied by Parrott, Canister, solid shot
and shrapnel shells, and projectiles of all kinds, the soldiers became
almost indifferent to them, and frequently sang amid the pattering of the
balls.
One evening as they sat in front of the cave a young officer passed them
singing words to the air of the "Mocking Bird." He seemed more concerned
about the melody than he did about the shots that were flying through the
air, and they watched him admiringly.
"''Twas at the siege of Vicksburg,
Of Vicksburg, of Vicksburg,
'Twas at the siege of Vicksburg,
When the Parrott shells were whistling thro' the air.
Listen to the Parrott shells,
Listen to the Parrott shells;
The Parrott shells are whistling thro' the air.
"'Oh! well will we remember,
Remember, remember,
Tough mule meat June sans November,
And the Minie balls that whistled thro' the air
Listen to the Minie balls,
Listen to the Minie balls;
The Minie balls are singing in the air.'"
"Jeanne," said Bob, "do you hear that? Do you think you have any Yankees
that are as brave as our people?"
"As brave perhaps," replied Jeanne, "but no braver, Bob. I think no people
could be more courageous than your people have shown themselves through
this siege. I am proud of them as Americans, but I am sorry that their
courage is shown for such a cause."
"Ah, we'll win yet," said Bob, her eyes shining, "and then we will show
you that we can be as generous as we are brave."
And the days passed by.