MORE than a quarter of a hour had elapsed since Thaddeus, his arm in a
sling, had glided into the tent without any of the listeners noticing
his arrival, and, taking up his position in a remote corner, he had by
occasional gestures expressed the interest that he took in his captain’s
narrative; but at last, considering that this direct allusion to himself
ought not to be permitted to pass without some acknowledgement on his
part, he stammered out—
“You are too good, captain.”
A general burst of laughter followed this speech, and D’Auverney,
turning towards him, exclaimed severely—
“What, Thaddeus, you here?—and your arm?”
On being addressed in so unaccustomed a tone, the features of the old
soldier grew dark; he quivered, and threw back his head, as though to
restrain the tears which seemed to struggle to his eyes.
“I never thought,” said he, in a low voice, “that you, captain, could
have omitted to say _thou_ when speaking to your old sergeant.”
“Pardon me, old friend,” answered the captain, quickly; “I hardly knew
what I said. Thou wilt pardon me, wilt thou not?”
The tears sprang to the sergeant’s eyes in spite of his efforts to
repress them.
“It is the third time,” remarked he—“but these are tears of joy.”
Peace was made, and a short silence ensued.
“But tell me, Thaddeus, why hast thou quitted the hospital to come
here?” asked D’Auverney, gently.
“It was—with your permission, captain—to ask if I should put the laced
saddle-cloth on the charger for to-morrow.”
Henri laughed. “You would have been wiser, Thaddeus, to have asked the
surgeon-major if you should put two more pieces of lint on your arm,”
said he.
“Or to ask,” continued Paschal, “if you might take a glass of wine to
refresh yourself. At any rate, here is some brandy; taste it—it will do
you good, my brave sergeant.”
Thaddeus advanced, saluted, and, apologizing for taking the glass with
his left hand, emptied it to the health of the assembled company.
“You had got, captain, to the moment when—yes, I remember, it was I who
proposed to take shelter under the creepers, to prevent our men being
smashed by the rocks. Our officer, who did not know how to swim, was
afraid of being drowned, and, as was natural, was dead against it until
he saw—with your permission, gentlemen—a great rock fall on the
creepers without being able to get through them. ‘It is better to die
like Pharaoh than like St. Stephen,’ said he: ‘for we are not saints,
and Pharaoh was a soldier like ourselves.’ The officer was a learned
man, you see. And so he agreed to my proposal, on the condition that I
should first try the experiment myself. Off I went; I slid down the bank
and caught hold of the roof of creepers, when all of a sudden some one
took a pull at my legs. I struggled, I shouted for help, and in a minute
I received half a dozen sabre cuts. Down came the dragoons to help me,
and there was a nice little skirmish under the creepers. The blacks of
Morne-Rouge had hidden themselves there, never for a moment thinking
that we should fall right on the top of them. This was not the right
time for fishing, I can tell you. We fought, we swore, we shouted. They
had nothing particular on, and were able to move about in the water more
easily than we were; but, on the other hand, our sabres had less to cut
through. We swam with one hand and fought with the other. Those who
could not swim, like my captain, hung on to the creepers, whilst the
negroes pulled them by the legs. In the midst of the hullabaloo I saw a
big negro fighting like Beelzebub against five or six of ours. I swam up
to him, and I recognized Pierrot, otherwise called Bug——But I musn’t
tell that yet, must I, captain? Since the capture of the fort I owed him
a grudge, so I took him hard and fast by the throat; he was going to rid
himself of me by a thrust of his dagger, when he recognized me, and gave
himself up at once. That was very unfortunate, was it not, captain? for
if he had not surrendered, he would not——But you will know that later
on, eh? When the blacks saw that he was taken they made a rush at me to
get him off; when Pierrot, seeing no doubt that they would all lose
their lives, said some gibberish or other, and in the twinkling of an
eye they plunged into the water, and were out of sight in a moment. This
fight in the water would have been pleasant enough if I had not lost a
finger, and wetted ten cartridges, and if the poor man——but it was to
be, was it not, captain?”
And the sergeant respectfully placed the back of his hand to his forage
cap, and then raised it to heaven with the air of an inspired prophet.
D’Auverney was violently agitated.
“Yes,” cried he, “thou art right, my old Thaddeus; that night was a
fatal night for me.”
He would have fallen into one of his usual reveries had they not
urgently pressed him to conclude his story.
After a while he continued.