MONDAY morning came again. The great bell in the cupola of Madam
Truxton's seminary had sounded, and all the pupils, large and small,
were gathered to join in the opening exercises. First, the
bright-eyed little girls, in tidy aprons, with hair smoothed back in
modest braids, or safely gathered under the faithful comb; then, the
more advanced scholars, each bearing the impress of healthful vigor
and hopeful heart; and last, the big girls, or "finishing class," as
Madam Truxton significantly styled them--all were assembled once more
on this bright Monday morning, to begin the duties of another week,
and share again the joys and sorrows of school life. It was a lovely
sight, this assembled school; for where is the heart that does not
see with unspeakable pleasure the dawning beauty of innocent,
careless maidenhood?
"Bertha, do you know the French lesson?" said Lizzie Heartwell, as
the class of young ladies was passing from the assembly hall to
Madam Cond‚'s room.
"Oh, just well enough, Lizzie, to keep me from a scolding, I guess.
Here, won't you please hold the book open at aimer, so I can get
that muss a little straight, in case madam calls upon me to
conjugate?"
Lizzie laughed.
"Oh, pshaw! of course you won't. Lizzie Heartwell, you are too
conscientious; but Helen, you will, won't you?"
"Yes, if you will hold it open for me, too. I am not at all prepared
in the lesson."
"Here, Leah," continued Bertha, laughing, and winking her roguish
eyes at Lizzie, "how much do you know of the verb aimer?"
"More than I wish I did," was the laconic reply of the beautiful
Jewess.
"I suppose so, judging from what I saw on last Saturday evening. But
here we are at the lion's den, and our levity had better subside."
"Bon jour, madame!"
"Bon jour, mesdemoiselles."
And the door was closed.
At this same hour, in the large, hollow square fronting the Citadel
Tower in the upper part of the Queen City, many platoons of young
men, dressed in the gray military suits of the cadets, were
drilling, drilling, drilling, according to custom, as a part of
their daily school routine.
A passer-by would have stopped for a moment, and watched with
interest this pleasing spectacle. The varied and intricate
evolutions made by these gray-clad figures, as they expanded into
broad platoons, and then, as if by magic, fell again into groups of
two, four, or six, was, to the unaccustomed beholder, a strange and
attractive performance.
The bristling bayonets shining in the bright morning sun, gave
evidence of the faithful care with with which their polish was
preserved. And these bright polished muskets spoke loudly too, to
the reflecting heart, of the wild work they might some day
accomplish, when carried into the conflict by these same skilful
hands that now so peacefully upheld them--demon-work, that might
clothe a land and people in sackcloth and desolation!
The drilling was ended, the last evolution made, the halt commanded,
and the order to disband spoken.
Like a fragile piece of potter's work, the magic ranks broke apart,
and each gun fell to the ground with a heavy "thud," like an iron
weight.
"I say, George, I am deuced tired of this turning and twisting, and
I'll be glad when the term ends, and I am set free from this place."
"Well, I can't say that I will, Le Grande," replied George Marshall,
as handsome a cadet as wore the uniform, and one highly ambitious
for promotion. "I came to this institute, because I was always
fascinated by military display, and I intend to make this my
lifelong profession."
"Whew! how tired I am! Well, you are welcome to it. As for me, it's
the last life I should choose. I like the uniform very well,
especially when I go where the girls are--they always give a cadet's
suit a second glance--but as for the 'profession of arms,' as you
call it, excuse me."
"What! would you like, Le Grande, always to be playing lady's man?"
"Oh! yes; and that reminds me, George, that I have a new lady-love;
she is at Madam Truxton's. To-day, at intermission, let's saunter
down to the seminary, and catch a glimpse of the girls. Maybe I'll
see her."
"I can't; at intermission I must study my Legendre. Look at the
clock now; it's late."
"Bother the Legendre! you are the strangest fellow I ever saw--care
no more for the girls than a 'cat does for holidays.' Won't you go?"
"Not to-day, Le Grande. I am very busy."
The clock struck nine, and George Marshall, with the other disbanded
cadets, hurried to the duties of the day--to the hard task of study
that awaited them within the grim walls of the citadel.
For a moment before turning to his books, George Marshall looked out
of the window, far away to the blue, misty harbor. There he saw
again old Fort Defiance, standing grim, stern, and dark against the
morning sky--the only object that marred the brightness of the blue
heaven and the blue water, melting together in the distance.
"How beautiful the harbor is to-day! And yet how sullen the fort
looks," said the young cadet as he surveyed the scene. "I see the
flag of my country floating, and all is peaceful and quiet in the
waters. Thank God for such a country! But I must hasten to my
duties."