THE WINNING HAND
Until far into the night the air reverberated with incessant
cannonade--from the direction of Genappe and from that of Wavre--but
just before dawn all was still. The stream of convoys which bore the
wounded along the road to Brussels from Mont Saint Jean and Hougoumont
and La Haye Sainte had momentarily ceased its endless course. The sky
had that perfect serenity of a midsummer's night, starlit and azure with
the honey-coloured moon sinking slowly down towards the west. Here at
the edge of the wood the air had a sweet smell of wet earth and damp
moss and freshly cut hay: it had all the delicious softness of a loved
one's embrace.
Through the roar of distant cannonade, Bobby had slept. For a time after
St. Genis left him he had watched the long straight road with dull,
unseeing eyes--he had seen the first convoy, overfilled with wounded men
lying huddled on heaped-up straw, and had thanked God that he was lying
on this exquisitely soft carpet made of thousands of tiny green
plants--moss, grass, weeds, young tendrils and growing buds and opening
leaves that were delicious to the touch. He had quite forgotten that he
was wounded--neither his head nor his leg nor his arm seemed to hurt him
now: and he was able to think in peace of Crystal and of her happiness.
St. Genis would have come to her by then: she would be happy to see him
safe and well, and perhaps--in the midst of her joy--she would think of
the friend who so gladly offered up his life for her.
When the air around was no longer shaken by constant repercussion, Bobby
fell asleep. It was not yet dawn, even though far away in the east there
was a luminous veil that made the sky look like living silver. Behind
him among the trees there was a moving and a fluttering--the birds were
no longer asleep--they had not begun to sing but they were shaking out
their feathers and opening tiny, round eyes in farewell to departing
night.
That gentle fluttering was a sweet lullaby, and Bobby slept and
dreamed--he dreamed that the fluttering became louder and louder, and
that, instead of birds, it was a group of angels that shook their wings
and stood around him as he slept.
One of the angels came nearer and laid a hand upon his head--and Bobby
dreamed that the angel spoke and the words that it said filled Bobby's
heart with unearthly happiness.
"My love! my love!" the angel said, "will you try and live for my sake?"
And Bobby would not open his eyes, for fear the angel should go away.
And though he knew exactly where he was, and could feel the soft carpet
of leaves, and smell the sweet moisture in the air, he knew that he must
still be dreaming, for angels are not of this earth.
Then a strong kind hand touched his wrist, and felt the beating of his
heart, and a rough, pleasant voice said in English: "He is exhausted and
very weak, but the fever is not high: he will soon be all right." And to
add to the wonderful strangeness of his dream, the angel's voice near
him murmured: "Thank God! thank God!"
Why should an angel thank God that he--Bobby Clyffurde--was not likely
to die?
He opened his eyes to see what it all meant, and he saw--bending over
him--a face that was more exquisitely fair than any that man had ever
seen: eyes that were more blue than the sky above, lips that trembled
like rose-leaves in the breeze. He was still dreaming and there was a
haze between him and that perfect vision of loveliness. And the kind,
rough voice somewhere close by said: "Have you got that stretcher
ready?" and two other voices replied, "Yes, Sir."
But the lips close above him said nothing, and it was Bobby now who
murmured: "My love, is it you?"
"Your love for always," the dear lips replied, "nothing shall part us
now. Yours for always to bring you back to life. Yours when you will
claim me--yours for life."
They lifted him onto a stretcher, and then into a carriage and a very
kind face which he quickly enough recognised as Mme. la Duchesse
d'Agen's smiled very encouragingly upon him, whereupon he could not help
but ask a very pertinent question:
"Mme. la Duchesse, is all this really happening?"
"Why, yes, my good man," Madame replied; and indeed there was nothing
dreamlike in her tart, dry voice: "Crystal and I really have dragged Dr.
Scott away from the bedside of innumerable other sick and wounded men,
and also from any hope of well-earned rest to-night: we have also really
brought him to a spot very accurately described by our worthy friend,
St. Genis, but where, unfortunately, you had not chosen to remain, else
we had found you an hour sooner. Is there anything else you want to
know?"
"Oh, yes! Madame la Duchesse, many things," murmured Bobby. "Please go
on telling me."
Madame laughed: "Well!" she said, "perhaps you would like to know that
some kind of instinct, or perhaps the hand of God guided one of our
party to the place where you had gone to sleep. You may also wish to
know, that though you seem in a bad way for the present, you are going
to be nursed back to life under Dr. Scott's own most hospitable roof:
but since Crystal has undertaken to do the nursing, I imagine that my
time for the next six weeks will be taken up in arguing with my dear and
pompous brother that he will now have to give his consent to his
daughter becoming the wife of a vendor of gloves."
Bobby contrived to smile: "Do you think that if I promised never to buy
or sell gloves again, but in future to try and live like a gentleman--do
you think then that he will consent?"
"I think, my dear boy," said Madame, subduing her harsh voice to tones
of gentleness, "that after my brother knows all that I know and all that
his daughter desires, he will be proud to welcome you as his son."
The doctor's wide barouche lumbered slowly along the wide, straight
road. In the east the luminous veil that still hid the rising sun had
taken on a hue of rosy gold: the birds, now fully awake, sang their
morning hymn. From the direction of Wavre came once more the cannon's
roar.
Inside the carriage Dr. Scott, sitting at the feet of his patient, gave
a peremptory order for silence. But Bobby--immeasurably happy and
contented--looked up and saw Crystal de Cambray--no longer a girl now,
but a fair and beautiful woman who had learned to the last letter the
fulsome lesson of Love. She sat close beside him, and her arm was round
his reclining head, and, looking at her, he saw the lovelight in her
dear eyes whenever she turned them on him. And anon, when Mme. la
Duchesse engaged Dr. Scott in a close and heated argument, Bobby felt
sweet-scented lips pressed against his own.
THE END
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
The original text is inconsistent regarding the spelling and
hyphenation of some words. Except when noted in the corrections
below, the spelling of individual words has been left as it was
in the original edition, even when the same word is spelled
differently elsewhere in the text.
In Chapter I, a quotation mark has been added after "for a rainy day.";
and a period has been added after "'To Grenoble?' exclaimed de Marmont".
In Chapter II, "experiences which I gleamed in exile" has been changed
to "experiences which I gleaned in exile"; and "a sterotyped smile" has
been changed to "a stereotyped smile".
In Chapter IV, "The dim has become deafening" has been changed to "The
din has become deafening"; and "brief comamnds to his sergeant" has been
changed to "brief commands to his sergeant".
In Chapter VII, "the conquerer of Austerlitz" has been changed to "the
conqueror of Austerlitz"; and "the fugutive royalists rallied" has been
changed to "the fugitive royalists rallied".
In Chapter VIII, "from the Gulf of Juan to the gates of the Tuileries"
has been changed to "from the Gulf of Jouan to the gates of the
Tuileries"; "from the gulf of Juan in the wake of his eagle" has been
changed to "from the gulf of Jouan in the wake of his eagle"; "neither
sleep not yet wakefulness" has been changed to "neither sleep nor yet
wakefulness"; and "that she had not desponded more warmly to his kiss"
has been changed to "that she had not responded more warmly to his
kiss".
In Chapter X, "those black-coated Brunswickers who longer to fly" has
been changed to "those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly".
No other corrections have been made to the original text.