LISBON.
The tramp of horses’ feet and the sound of voices beneath my window roused
me from a deep sleep. I sprang up and drew aside the curtain. What a
strange confusion beset me as I looked forth! Before me lay a broad and
tranquil river whose opposite shore, deeply wooded and studded with villas
and cottages, rose abruptly from the water’s edge; vessels of war lay
tranquilly in the stream, their pennants trailing in the tide. The loud
boom of a morning gun rolled along the surface, awaking a hundred echoes as
it passed, and the lazy smoke rested for some minutes on the glassy water
as it blended with the thin air of the morning.
“Where am I?” was my first question to myself, as I continued to look from
side to side, unable to collect my scattered senses.
One word sufficed to recall me to myself, as I heard Power’s voice, from
without, call out, “Charley! O’Malley, I say! Come down here!”
I hurriedly threw on my clothes and went to the door.
“Well, Charley, I’ve been put in harness rather sooner than I expected.
Here’s old Douglas has been sitting up all night writing despatches; and
I must hasten on to headquarters without a moment’s delay. There’s work
before us, that’s certain; but when, where, and how, of that I know
nothing. You may expect the route every moment; the French are still
advancing. Meanwhile I have a couple of commissions for you to execute.
First, here’s a packet for Hammersley; you are sure to meet him with the
regiment in a day or two. I have some scruples about asking you this; but,
confound it! you’re too sensible a fellow to care--” Here he hesitated;
and as I colored to the eyes, for some minutes he seemed uncertain how to
proceed. At length, recovering himself, he went on: “Now for the other.
This is a most loving epistle from a poor devil of a midshipman, written
last night by a tallow candle, in the cock-pit, containing vows of eternal
adoration and a lock of hair. I promised faithfully to deliver it myself;
for the ‘Thunderer’ sails for Gibraltar next tide, and he cannot go ashore
for an instant. However, as Sir Arthur’s billet may be of more importance
than the reefer’s, I must intrust its safe keeping to your hands. Now,
then, don’t look so devilish sleepy, but seem to understand what I am
saying. This is the address: ‘La Senhora Inez da Silviero, Rua Nuova,
opposite the barber’s.’ You’ll not neglect it. So now, my dear boy, till
our next meeting, _adios!_”
“Stop! For Heaven’s sake, not so fast, I pray! Where’s the street?”
“The Rua Nuova. Remember Figaro, my boy. _Cinque perruche_.”
“But what am I to do?”
“To do! What a question! Anything; everything. Be a good diplomate. Speak
of the torturing agony of the lover, for which I can vouch. The boy is only
fifteen. Swear that he is to return in a month, first lieutenant of the
‘Thunder Bomb,’ with intentions that even Madame Dalrymple would approve.”
“What nonsense,” said I, blushing to the eyes.
“And if that suffice not, I know of but one resource.”
“Which is?”
“Make love to her yourself. Ay, even so. Don’t look so confoundedly
vinegar; the girl, I hear, is a devilish pretty one, the house pleasant,
and I sincerely wish I could exchange duties with you, leaving you to make
your bows to his Excellency the C. O. F., and myself free to make mine to
La Senhora. And now, push along, old red cap.”
So saying, he made a significant cut of his whip at the Portuguese guide,
and in another moment was out of sight.
My first thought was one of regret at Power’s departure. For some time past
we had been inseparable companions; and notwithstanding the reckless and
wild gayety of his conduct, I had ever found him ready to assist me in
every difficulty, and that with an address and dexterity a more calculating
adviser might not have possessed. I was now utterly alone; for though
Monsoon and the adjutant were still in Lisbon, as was also Sparks, I never
could make intimates of them.
I ate my breakfast with a heavy heart, my solitary position again
suggesting thoughts of home and kindred. Just at this moment my eyes fell
upon the packet destined for Hammersley; I took it up and weighed it in
my hand. “Alas!” thought I, “how much of my destiny may lie within that
envelope! How fatally may my after-life be influenced by it!” It felt heavy
as though there was something besides letters. True, too true; there was
a picture, Lucy’s portrait! The cold drops of perspiration stood upon
my forehead as my fingers traced the outline of a miniature-case in the
parcel. I became deadly weak, and sank, half-fainting, upon a chair. And
such is the end of my first dream of happiness! How have I duped, how
have I deceived myself! For, alas, though Lucy had never responded to my
proffered vows of affection, yet had I ever nurtured in my heart a secret
hope that I was not altogether uncared for. Every look she had given me,
every word she had spoken, the tone of her voice, her step, her every
gesture, were before me, all confirming my delusion, and yet,--I could bear
no more, and burst into tears.
The loud call of a cavalry trumpet aroused me.
How long I had passed in this state of despondency I knew not; but it was
long past noon when I rallied myself. My charger was already awaiting me;
and a second blast of the trumpet told that the inspection in the Plaza was
about to commence.
As I continued to dress, I gradually rallied from my depressing thoughts;
and ere I belted my sabretasche, the current of my ideas had turned from
their train of sadness to one of hardihood and daring. Lucy Dashwood had
treated me like a wilful schoolboy. Mayhap, I may prove myself as gallant a
soldier as even him she has preferred before me.
A third sound of the trumpet cut short my reflections, and I sprang into
the saddle, and hastened towards the Plaza. As I dashed along the streets,
my horse, maddened with the impulse that stirred my own heart, curvetted
and plunged unceasingly. As I reached the Plaza, the crowd became dense,
and I was obliged to pull up. The sound of the music, the parade, the tramp
of the infantry, and the neighing of the horses, were, however, too much
for my mettlesome steed, and he became nearly unmanageable; he plunged
fearfully, and twice reared as though he would have fallen back. As I
scattered the foot passengers right and left with terror, my eye fell upon
one lovely girl, who, tearing herself from her companion, rushed wildly
towards an open doorway for shelter; suddenly, however, changing her
intention, she came forward a few paces, and then, as if overcome by fear,
stood stock-still, her hands clasped upon her bosom, her eyes upturned, her
features deadly pale, while her knees seemed bending beneath her. Never did
I behold a more beautiful object. Her dark hair had fallen loose upon her
shoulder, and she stood the very _idéal_ of the “Madonna Supplicating.”
My glance was short as a lightning flash; for the same instant my horse
swerved, and dashed forward right at the place where she was standing. One
terrific cry rose from the crowd, who saw her danger. Beside her stood a
muleteer who had drawn up his mule and cart close beside the footway for
safety; she made one effort to reach it, but her outstretched arms alone
moved, and paralyzed by terror, she sank motionless upon the pavement.
There was but one course open to me now; so collecting myself for the
effort, I threw my horse upon his haunches, and then, dashing the spurs
into his flanks, breasted him at the mule cart. With one spring he rose,
and cleared it at a bound, while the very air rang with the acclamations
of the multitude, and a thousand bravos saluted me as I alighted upon the
opposite side.
“Well done, O’Malley!” sang out the little adjutant, as I flew past and
pulled up in the middle of the Plaza.
“Something devilish like Galway in that leap,” said a very musical voice
beside me; and at the same instant a tall, soldier-like man, in an undress
dragoon frock, touched his cap, and said, “A 14th man, I perceive, sir. May
I introduce myself? Major O’Shaughnessy.”
I bowed, and shook the major’s proffered hand, while he continued,--
“Old Monsoon mentioned your name to us this morning. You came out together,
if I mistake not?”
“Yes; but somehow, I’ve missed the major since my landing.”
“Oh, you’ll see him presently; he’ll be on parade. By-the-bye, he wishes
particularly to meet you. We dine to-day at the ‘Quai de Soderi,’ and if
you’re not engaged--Yes, this is the person,” said he, turning at the
moment towards a servant, who, with a card in his hand, seemed to search
for some one in the crowd.
The man approached, and handed it to me.
“What can this mean?” said I. “Don Emanuel de Blacas y Silviero, Rua
Nuova.”
“Why, that’s the great Portuguese contractor, the intendant of half the
army, the richest fellow in Lisbon. Have you known him long?”
“Never heard of him till now.”
“By Jove, you’re in luck! No man gives such dinners; he has such a cellar!
I’ll wager a fifty it was his daughter you took in the flying leap a while
ago. I hear she is a beautiful creature.”
“Yes,” thought I, “that must be it; and yet, strange enough, I think the
name and address are familiar to me.”
“Ten to one, you’ve heard Monsoon speak of him; he’s most intimate there.
But here comes the major.”
And as he spoke, the illustrious commissary came forward holding a vast
bundle of papers in one hand, and his snuff-box in the other, followed by a
long string of clerks, contractors, assistant-surgeons, paymasters, etc.,
all eagerly pressing forward to be heard.
“It’s quite impossible; I can’t do it to-day. Victualling and physicking
are very good things, but must be done in season. I have been up all
night at the accounts,--haven’t I, O’Malley?” here he winked at me most
significantly; “and then I have the forage and stoppage fund to look
through [‘we dine at six, sharp,’ said he, _sotto voce_], which will leave
me without one minute unoccupied for the next twenty-four hours. Look to
your toggery this evening; I’ve something in my eye for you, O’Malley.”
“Officers unattached to their several corps will fall into the middle of
the Plaza,” said a deep voice among the crowd; and in obedience to the
order I rode forward and placed myself with a number of others, apparently
newly joined, in the open square. A short, gray-haired old colonel, with a
dark, eagle look, proceeded to inspect us, reading from a paper as he came
along,--
“Mr. Hepton, 6th Foot; commission bearing date 11th January; drilled,
proceed to Ovar, and join his regiment.
“Mr. Gronow, Fusilier Guards, remains with the depot.
“Captain Mortimer, 1st Dragoons, appointed aide-de-camp to the general
commanding the cavalry brigade.
“Mr. Sparks,--where is Mr. Sparks? Mr. Sparks absent from parade; make a
note of it.
“Mr. O’Malley, 14th Light Dragoons. Mr. O’Malley,--oh, I remember! I have
received a letter from Sir George Dashwood concerning you. You will hold
yourself in readiness to march. Your friends desire that before you may
obtain any staff appointment, you should have the opportunity of seeing
some service. Am I to understand such is your wish?”
“Most certainly.”
“May I have the pleasure of your company at dinner to-day?”
“I regret that I have already accepted an invitation to dine with Major
Monsoon.”
“With Major Monsoon? Ah, indeed! Perhaps it might be as well I should
mention,--but no matter. I wish you good-morning.”
So saying, the little colonel rode off, leaving me to suppose that my
dinner engagement had not raised me in his estimation, though why, I could
not exactly determine.