_Celia_.--Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.
_Rosalind_.--With his mouth full of news.
_Celia_.--Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
_Rosalind_.--Then shall we be news-crammed.
_As You Like It._
The next morning Colonel L'Isle was seated in his room, wrapped in his
cloak, with a _brasero_ filled with wood embers at his feet; for it
was one of those windy, chilly days, not uncommon in this fluctuating
climate, and he was still invalid enough to be keenly sensitive to
these sudden changes of temperature. He was, too, so completely
wrapped up in his meditations, that his servant had twice to announce
that the adjutant was in the next room.
"Here, already!" said L'Isle; "I did not expect him until ten
o'clock." He looked at his watch. "But it is ten already. Here have I
been thinking for two hours, and have never once thought of the
regiment. I am acquiring a sad habit of day-dreaming, or, rather, my
mind has not yet recovered its tone. Ask Lieutenant Meynell to walk in
here."
The regimental business was soon dispatched, and the adjutant, who was
a capital newsmonger, began to detail the local news of the
day. L'Isle liked to keep himself informed of what was going on around
him, on the easy terms of listening to the adjutant. But this morning
he seemed to tire soon at the details of small intelligence, much of
which was of a sporting character, such as this: "Warren has succeeded
in buying the famous dog at Estremoz; they say he will collar a wolf
without ceremony, and throttle him single-handed; and he has the knack
of so seizing a wild boar, that he can never bring his tusks to bear
upon him."
"I hope," said L'Isle, "that Warren will show us many trophies of his
prowess, or his dog's rather, in the hunt."
"He had to pay well for him, though. Fifty moidores was the least his
owner would take for him."
"I sincerely trust that Warren will get fifty moidores' worth of sport
out of him."
"He went out yesterday to try him," continued Meynell, "but Hatton,
who was with him, got such a fall (he is a villainous rider, without
knowing it), that they had great trouble in getting him back here, and
it broke up the day's sport."
"Is he much hurt?" asked L'Isle.
"No permanent injury. But he fell on his head, and, at first, they
thought the time come for firing blank-cartridges over him."
"I trust, if Hatton is bent on dying in the field, he will choose some
occasion when they do not fire blank-cartridges."
As his colonel seemed little interested in his sporting intelligence,
the adjutant turned to a topic that looked a little more like
business. "I see that Commissary Shortridge has got back."
"Ah!" said L'Isle, suppressing a yawn, "where has he been?"
"He has been to Lisbon."
"What carried him there?" mechanically asked the colonel, evidently
not caring to know.
"Business of the commissariat, he says."
"So I suppose," said L'Isle, carelessly.
"But I suppose no such thing," said Meynell. "The first thing these
fellows think of is not the supply of the troops, but their own
comfort. He only went to Lisbon to bring his wife here."
"What!" said L'Isle, with sudden interest, "is Mrs. Shortridge in
Elvas?"
"Yes. She came with him last night."
"And is she to remain here any time?"
"As long as we stay," answered Meynell, surprised at the interest his
superior now showed at his intelligence. "That is, if Shortridge can
establish her here comfortably. You know, since the king's money has
been passing through his hands, and some of it has stuck to his palms,
he has begun to give himself airs. He speaks with the most gentlemanly
disgust of the narrow and inconvenient lodgings they are obliged to
put up with. He told me they were in the dirtiest part of the town, in
the midst of the filthiest of these Portuguese, and sooner than let
Mrs. Shortridge stay there, he will take her to Portalegre, or back to
Lisbon."
"There will not be the least need of that," said L'Isle, quickly;
"this house is large and convenient enough"--and he looked round the
apartment into the room beyond--"and is one of the best situated in
Elvas."
"But you are occupying it yourself, sir. What good will that do,
Shortridge?"
"Oh, I will give it up to Shortridge. It is quite thrown away on a
bachelor like me. Now I am on duty again, I prefer being near the
regiment, and shall take rooms at the barracks."
"Shortridge will be exceedingly obliged to you. But," added Meynell,
fishing for information, "I did not think you cared a farthing whether
the commissary got into good quarters or no."
"The commissary!" said L'Isle, looking round on his companion with an
air of surprise; then he added, in a tone of contempt, "he may lie in
a ditch. Many a better man has done it. It is Mrs. Commissary for whom
I would find good quarters."
"Oh, indeed!" said Meynell, elevating his eyebrows a good deal, "I
overlooked that. But I was not aware that you had ever seen her."
"Oh, many times: in Lisbon, last year. Indeed, on one occasion I did
her a well-timed service."
"What was that?--if I may be allowed to ask."
"Why, Mrs. Shortridge, though an excellent woman, is a little
afflicted with the disease of sight-seeing, and had thrust herself,
with a party of other heretics, into the Patriarchal Church, to
witness the rending of the veil. Do you know what that means, Meynell?
I believe you are not well drilled in theology."
"Not popish theology."
"Nor any other, I fear. However, a large detachment of the live and
dead saints were there, and, certainly, half the rabble of Lisbon. In
the rush of this devout crowd, Mrs. Shortridge got separated from her
party, and, between alarm and exhaustion, fell, fainting, on the
pavement. She would soon have been trampled to death, had I not picked
her up and carried her out bodily. I had to swear awfully at the
rabble to make them give way."
"That was no small service," said Meynell; then, glancing at the
colonel's thin form, "I am afraid you could not repeat it just now.
Mrs. Shortridge is a plump little body."
"I suppose not. Yet there is no knowing what exertions a man might
make to save a pretty woman. However, she has been very grateful ever
since, and whenever we meet we are excellent friends. I am glad
Shortridge has brought her here. She is a different sort of person
from himself. She has some very pleasant traits of character--in fact,
she is a very good woman," and he sank into a reverie, apparently
thinking over Mrs. Commissary's good qualities.
Meynell had nothing more to tell, and, hopeless of extracting any
thing more, now took leave. But when he had gone out of the room, his
colonel called him back to inquire where Shortridge was now lodged.
Having given as precise an answer as he could to this question, the
adjutant departed, trying as he went, to frame such a definition of a
good woman as would fit his view of this case.
This little conversation seemed to have revived L'Isle a good deal. He
looked out of the window and pronounced the wind to have fallen, and
that, after all, it was a very pleasant day. Calling his servant to
bring his boots and brush his clothes, he was soon after on the
_praça_ of Elvas.
This exhibited a busy scene; for the troops quartered in Elvas created
a market, and drew a concourse of people from the surrounding
country. Asses laden with, or just unladen of, country produce, were
grouped about the square, each with his nose tied up in a net, that he
might not eat his saddle or panniers. Bullock carts were seen here and
there, among them, many of the oxen lying down with their legs doubled
under them, taking advantage of the halt to enjoy their _siesta_. A
crowd of peasants hovered about, and the sonorous Spanish mingling
with the abrupt and nasal Portuguese, the short black jackets and
_montero_ caps, among the hats and vests, generally brown, showed that
many of these men had come across the Spanish border. Here was the pig
merchant, with his unquiet and ear-piercing merchandise, and the wine
merchant, with his pitchy goat-skin sacks, full of, and flavoring the
_vinho verde_ Colonel Bradshawe so much abhorred. Here were peasant
women, with poultry, and sausages, and goats'-milk cheese; and young
girls, persuasively offering for sale the contents of their baskets,
oranges, chesnuts, bolotas, and other fruits and nuts. Here, in the
crowd, was a monk; there, a secular priest, and of friars a plenty.
And here, in the midst of them, were the broad-faced English soldiers,
touching their caps as L'Isle passed among them--their faces growing
broader as they remarked to each other, that there was still something
left of the colonel. Here, too, were the lounging citizens of Elvas,
who might have personified _otium cum dignitate_, or plain English
laziness, but for the presence of some of the gentlemen of the
brigade, who were sauntering about with their hands in their pockets,
as if caring for nothing, and having nothing to do, or at once too
proud and lazy to do it--not much caring which way their steps led
them, but expecting, of course, every one to get out of their way. Yet
a spark of interest would, at times, shine out from them at the sight
of a neat figure, or a pretty face, among the rustic belles, whose
love of bright and strongly contrasted colors in dress, attracted the
eye, and gave variety to the scene.
Some of these gentlemen stopped L'Isle to talk with him. But, avoiding
any prolonged conversation, he hastened across the _praça_, into one
of the narrow and uncleanly streets, along which he picked his way,
wishing that he had authority, for a few days, to turn the good people
of Elvas, clergy and all, into scavengers, and enter on a thorough
purification of the place, beginning with the persons of the people
themselves. A moral purification might possibly follow, but could not
possibly precede this physical cleansing. Walking along, divided
between these thoughts and the necessity of looking for the place he
was searching for, he heard himself called by some one behind him. He
turned; it was Commissary Shortridge himself, who being rather pursy,
was a little out of breath through his exertions to overtake him.
Now, there were a good many things that L'Isle despised. But, if there
was any thing that he did despise beyond all others, it was a
commissary--a fellow who makes his gains where all other men make
their losses; who devotes himself to his country's service for the
express purpose of cheating it; who seizes the hour of its greatest
want and weakness, to bleed it most freely; who, as often as he can,
_sells_ to his country straw for hay, chaff for corn, and bones for
beef; the master-stroke of whose art is to get passed, by fraudulent
vouchers, accounts full of imaginary articles, charged at fabulous
prices; in short, a man who loves war more than Mars or Achilles;
reaping, amidst its blood and havoc, a rich harvest in safety. Our
commissary was not quite equal in professional skill to some of his
brethren. Perhaps he had some small remnant of conscience left, or of
patriotism, or of loyalty, or of caution, which withheld him from
plundering king and country with both hands. Nevertheless, from being
an unprosperous London tradesman, he had, in a few years, contrived to
line his pockets exceedingly well, and had now grown ambitious of
social position.
How came it then, when the commissary had expressed very copiously his
delight at seeing Colonel L'Isle again, and yet more at seeing him so
much better in health and strength than he had dared to hope, L'Isle
condescendingly gave him to understand that the pleasure of this
meeting was not all on the commissary's side? When Shortridge
congratulated him on his promotion, and yet more on the high deserts
that had drawn it upon him, L'Isle's manner implied that the
commissary's good opinion gave him greater confidence in himself. How
could L'Isle do this? Simply because the proudest and best of us can
tolerate, and even flatter, those we despise, when we have urgent
occasion to use them.
The commissary then said, "I have brought Mrs. Shortridge with me to
Elvas."
"I am very glad to hear it," answered L'Isle, without betraying that
he knew it before. "Even one English lady is a precious addition to
our society in this dull place."
"Mrs. Shortridge has never forgotten your rescuing her from under the
feet of the idolatrous rabble of Lisbon. She is still a strong friend
of yours, and will be delighted to see you, as soon as she is mistress
of a decent apartment."
"Where is she now?"
"Not far from here--but in such an abominable hole, that a lady is
naturally ashamed to be caught there by any genteel acquaintance."
"I am truly sorry to hear that she is so badly lodged."
"Our officers," said Shortridge, "have taken up all the best houses;
and the troops being quartered here has attracted such an additional
population from the country around, that I was afraid I would have to
carry Mrs. Shortridge to rooms in the barracks."
"That will never do," said L'Isle. "But, pray, if I am in her
neighborhood, let me call on Mrs. Shortridge, and welcome her to
Elvas."
Thus urged, the commissary led the way, and soon reached his
lodgings. They found the lady in a room of some size, but dark, dirty,
and offensive enough to eye and nose to disgust her with Elvas and
drive her back to Lisbon, without unpacking the numerous trunks,
baskets, band-boxes, and portable furniture which lumbered the room.
These her man-servant was arranging, under her direction, while she
was good-humoredly trying to pacify her maid, who, with tears in her
eyes, was protesting that she could not sleep another night in that
coal-hole, into which the people of the house had thrust her, and
which they would persist in calling a chamber.
Mrs. Shortridge, a plump and pretty woman of eight-and-twenty, was a
good deal fluttered at seeing such a visitor at such a time. She
declared "that she did not know whether she was more delighted or
ashamed to see Major--I beg your pardon--Colonel L'Isle, in such a
place; we, who have been accustomed to a suite of genteel apartments
wherever we went."
L'Isle cast his eye around the forlorn and dismal walls. "Let me beg
you, Colonel L'Isle, to be conveniently near-sighted during your
visit. I would not, for the world, have our present domicil, and our
household arrangements, minutely inspected by your critical eye."
Without minding her protest, he completed a deliberate survey; then
said, suddenly, "Why, Shortridge, how could you think of shutting up a
lady in such a dungeon? If Mrs. Shortridge were not the best-tempered
woman in the world, it would cause a domestic rebellion, and we would
soon see her posting back to Lisbon, and London, perhaps, without
leave or license. Do you forget how she yearns after the two little
boys she left at home, that you venture to aggravate so her regrets at
leaving England?"
"How can I help it?" said Shortridge, looking much out of countenance;
"I have been into a dozen houses, and these rooms are the largest and
least comfortless I can find."
"I would pitch my tent in the _praça_, and pass the winter in it,"
said L'Isle, "sooner than share with these people the pig-sties they
call their houses."
"But a lady is not quite so hardy or fearless as a soldier," said
Mrs. Shortridge, "and needs more substantial shelter and protection
than a canvas wall."
"I have some thoughts of getting rooms in the barracks," said
Shortridge; "but it is not pleasant for a lady to be in the midst of
the rank and file."
"Of course not. By the by," said L'Isle, as if he had just thought of
it, "I intend, as soon as I get quite well, to take quarters at the
barracks; I lodge too far from the regiment now. I may as well hasten
my removal, and transfer my present abode to you. My house is large,
well situated, and not more dilapidated than every thing else is in
this country. It will suit Mrs. Shortridge as well as a Portuguese
house can suit an English lady."
"But I cannot think of turning you out of it," said Mrs.
Shortridge. "You are still an invalid, and need every comfort and
convenience about you."
"I am nearly as well as I ever was in my life," answered L'Isle; "a
little like the lean knight of La Mancha, it is true, but time and
good feeding will soon cure that. And, let me tell you, good feeding
is the order of the day here just now. I am only afraid we will eat up
the country around, before the opening of the campaign. But my present
house has a fault to me, which will be none to you. There is no
stabling for my horses, unless I follow the Portuguese custom, and
lodge them in the ground-floor of the house. I have to keep them at
the barracks, and like to be so quartered that I can put my foot in
the stirrup at a minute's warning."
The commissary and his wife made many scruples at accepting his offer,
but L'Isle overruled them, and at length it was settled that he should
march out at the end of three days, and Mrs. Shortridge and suite
should garrison the vacant post.
"And now I will leave you," said L'Isle; "I will finish my visit when
you are more suitably lodged. I know how annoying it must be to a neat
English woman to receive her friends in such a place as this." And he
left Mr. and Mrs. Commissary full of gratitude for his attentions, and
of a growing conviction that they were people of some importance and
fashion.
The military gentlemen in Elvas had, most of them, abundant leisure on
their hands, and, like the Athenians in St. Paul's day, spent their
time in little else "than either to tell or to hear some new thing
every day." Colonel Bradshawe, strolling about the _praça_ with this
praiseworthy object, had the luck to meet with Adjutant Meynell, and
at once began to pump him for news. But the adjutant, being a man of
the same kidney, needed no pumping at all. He at once commenced laying
open to the colonel, under the strictest injunctions to secrecy, the
thing weighing most on his mind, which was the curious little
conversation he had just held with his own colonel, not forgetting to
give a few extra touches to the expressions of satisfaction that the
news of Mrs. Shortridge's arrival had called forth. After sifting and
twisting the matter to their own satisfaction, they parted, and the
colonel continued his stroll, chewing the cud of the last news he had
swallowed. An hour or so after, whom should he meet with, by the
greatest good luck, but the commissary himself. Now, Shortridge was
rather a favorite with the colonel, being a man who knew how to make
himself useful. For instance, he was the very agent who had so
judiciously declined purchasing the refuse sherry wines which Soult,
Victor & Co. had contemptuously left on the market; while, with equal
judgment and promptitude, he had laid in for the mess an abundant
stock of the best port, malmsey and Madeira. Two such cronies, meeting
for the first time for ten days, had much conference together; in the
course of which the colonel learned all about the straits
Mrs. Shortridge was put to for lodgings, and how she was to be
relieved through the considerate kindness of L'Isle. This led to a
minute account of the occasion on which their acquaintance began, and
rather an exaggerated statement of the social relations existing
between the aristocratic colonel and the Shortridge firm.
"I have been sometimes galled and ruffled by his haughty manner," said
the commissary; "but now I know it is only his manner. He is very
considerate of other people, and is getting more and more agreeable
every day."
The commissary not having, like the colonel, nothing to do, now took
his leave; a little surprised, however, seeing how glad Bradshawe had
been to meet with him, at his not inviting him to dine that day with
the mess, as he had often done before.
It was observed at the mess table of the ---- regiment, that the
colonel was in particularly fine spirits to-day. Always companionable,
he this day enjoyed his dinner, his glass, and his jokes, and other
men's jokes, with peculiar _gusto_. At length, however, the table grew
thin. Duty, pleasure, satiety, and restlessness, took off man after
man, particularly of the younger officers, and the colonel was left at
last to the support of three or four of his special confidants, the
stanchest sitters in the regiment.
Gathering them around him, he called for a fresh decanter, filled
their glasses, and ordered the last servant out of the room. After
slowly draining his glass, and dwelling awhile on the rich flavor of
the wine, he remarked: "We certainly owe a debt of gratitude to
Shortridge, for the good faith in which he executes these little
commissions. They are, we should remember, quite beside his official
duties. I never tasted better Madeira of its age in my life--it almost
equals my lord's best, which is ten years older; and I do not think
that Shortridge made more than two fair profits out of us. I met him,
by the by, to-day, and would have had him to dine with us; but, for
certain reasons, I think his best place, just now, is at home,
watching over his domestic relations."
"What is there in them," exclaimed one of the party, "that needs such
close watching?"
The colonel seemed for a moment to debate in his own mind the
propriety of making a revelation, then said: "We are all friends here;
and, while it is desirable in our profession, and in all others, to
know thoroughly the men we live among, still there are many little
things that are not to be published on parade, like a general order."
His discreet auditors assenting to this truth, he then gave a full
detail of Adjutant Meynell's morning conversation with his colonel,
painting broadly and brightly L'Isle's surprise and delight on hearing
that Mrs. Shortridge was in Elvas. "What do you think of that, Fox?"
Captain Fox thought L'Isle very imprudent. "But he is young yet, and
lacks secrecy and self-command."
"I had not well digested what Meynell had told me," continued
Bradshawe, "when I met Shortridge, and lo! L'Isle had already found
them out in their dirty lodgings," and the colonel went on to repeat
and embellish Shortridge's narrative of L'Isle's kind attention, and
the origin of their intimacy. Various were the comments of the company
on the affair. But they all agreed to the justness of their colonel's
criticism, when he remarked: "That scene in the Patriarchal Church
must have been exceedingly well got up. I should like much to have
been by. Have you ever remarked that a woman never faints out-and-out,
when there is no man near enough, and ready enough, to catch her
before she falls to the ground?"
This was a physiological fact, as to female fainting, that some of the
company admitted was new to them.
"Now, you are all sharp fellows," said Bradshawe, with a patronizing
wave of the hand; "and some of you profess to be men of intrigue; yet
I doubt whether any one of you can tell me why the house is not handed
over to Shortridge until at the end of three days."
One suggested one reason; another, another. But wine had failed to
sharpen their wits, and he scornfully rejected their solutions.
"Three days may be needed," said he, gravely, "to fit a double set of
keys to every lock in the house. Shortridge will have one. L'Isle may
keep the other, and with it the power of letting himself in and out at
any minute of the twenty-four hours."
How stupid did his companions think themselves. The thing was now
patent to the dullest apprehension.
"It is curious," continued the colonel, "that Shortridge, so keen a
fellow in all business transactions (for both we and the government
have found him too sharp for us before now), should be in these little
delicate domestic relations such an egregious gull. You all know I do
not view these little matters from the parson's point of view; but
still, there is a propriety to be observed. To think," continued
Bradshawe, with a countenance of comic horror, "of his proposing to
make our friend Shortridge lie in a ditch, for his accommodation! Our
punctilious comrade is getting to be a very bare-faced fellow. Just
snatched from the brink of the grave, too," added he, in a sudden fit
of pious indignation. "What a deliberate, cold-blooded fellow!"
Having thus, by fitting a few chance hints to each other, brought out
a pretty piece of Spanish intrigue, that would have delighted Calderon
or Lope de Vega, the colonel emptied the decanter by filling the
glasses all round, and each man emptying his glass, the company
dispersed.