I am a native of Marseilles, your highness, where I was brought up to
the profession of my father; a profession (continued the wily renegade)
which, I have no hesitation to assert, has produced more men of general
information, and more men of talent, than any other--I mean that of a
barber.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Wallah thaib; well said by Allah!" observed Mustapha.
The pacha nodded his approbation; and the renegade proceeded with his
story.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was gifted by nature with a ready invention, and some trouble and
expense were bestowed upon my education. To the profession of a barber
my father added that of bleeding and tooth-drawing. At ten years old I
could cut hair pretty well. People did say, that those upon whom I had
operated, looked as if their heads had been gnawed by the rats; but it
was the remark of envy; and, as my father observed, "there must be a
beginning to every thing."
At fifteen, I entered upon the rudiments of shaving; and after having
nearly ruined my father's credit, from the pounds of flesh which I
removed with the hair of my customers, who were again consoled by his
observing, that "there must be a beginning to every thing," I became
quite expert. I was subsequently initiated into the higher branches of
tooth-drawing and bleeding. In the former, at first I gave great
dissatisfaction, either from breaking the decayed tooth short off, and
leaving the stump in the socket, or from mistaking the one pointed out,
and drawing a sound engine of mastication in its stead. In the latter,
I made more serious mistakes, having more than once cut so deep as to
open the artery, while I missed the vein; in consequence of which I was
never afterwards employed, except by a husband to relieve a scolding
wife, or by nephews who were anxious about the health of an everlasting
uncle. But, as my father wisely observed, "there must be a beginning to
every thing;" and, as I could only practise upon living subjects,
"individuals must suffer for the good of the community at large." At
the age of twenty I was an accomplished barber.
But rapid as was my career, I was not fated to continue in it long.
Like the shot propelled from the mouth of the cannon, which, in its
extreme velocity, is turned from the direction which has been given it
by glancing along the weakest substance, so was my course of life
changed from its direction by meeting with a woman.
My father had a good customer; he had shaved him every morning for
years, had extracted every tooth in his head, and was now winding up his
long account by bleeding him daily, under the direction of an ignorant
apothecary. I was often at the house,--not to bleed him, for my father
either thought him too valuable, or was too grateful for past favours to
trust him in my hands;--but I held the basin, procured water, and
arranged the bandages. He had a daughter, a lovely girl, whom I adored
in secret; but her rank in life was too far above mine to allow me to
express my feelings. I was then a handsome young man, although Time has
since exerted his utmost, through jealousy, to make me appear almost as
old and ill-favoured as himself. The young lady took a fancy to me,
complained of the tooth-ache, and asked for remedies. I offered to
extract the tooth; but either having heard of my reputation, or not
wishing to remove the excuse for our interviews, or, what is still more
probable, having no tooth-ache whatever, she would not consent.
The death of her mother, which had taken place when she was a child, had
left her without guidance,--and the helpless situation of her father,
without protection. Naturally of a warm temperament, and yielding to
the impulse of her feelings, she carried on an intimacy which could only
end in her disgrace; and, at the expiration of a year, her situation
could no longer be concealed. I was now in a dilemma. She had two
brothers in the army, who were returning home, and I dreaded their
vengeance.
I loved her very much, but I loved myself more; so, one evening, I
packed up all that I could call my own, and all that I could lay my
hands on belonging to my honoured parent, and shipped on board a Genoese
vessel, which was then standing out of the harbour. She was a large
ship, mounting twelve long guns, with a complement of sixty men; being
what is termed in European countries a "letter of marque." This implies
that she fights her way without convoy, capturing any of the enemy's
vessels she may happen to fall in with, who are not strong enough to
resist her. We had cleared out for Genoa with a cargo of lead, which
lay at the bottom of the hold, and which merely served for ballast.
I soon found out, by the conversation of the crew, that we were not to
proceed to Genoa direct; in fact, your highness, she was a pirate,
manned by a most desperate set of men. As soon as my qualifications
were made known, I had the honour to remove the beards of sixty of the
greatest villains that ever were permitted to exist, receiving nothing
but blows and curses for my trouble. I certainly improved very much in
my profession; for it was as much as my life was worth to draw blood,
although they made no scruple of carrying on a conversation during the
whole time of the operation. We had taken the cargoes out of several
vessels, all of which were added to the "manifest" by our correct
captain; when one day, we were chased by an English frigate. I never
met the English on shore, but I must say that, afloat, they are the most
impertinent people that swim on the seas. They cannot be content with
minding their own business, although they have plenty on their hands,
but they must interfere in that of others. They board you, and insist
upon knowing where you come from, whither you are bound and what you
have on board; examining you with as much scrutiny as if they had been
the delegated custom-house officers of the whole world.
Now it did not exactly suit our captain to submit to such a rigorous
search; he therefore made all sail for an island about seven miles
distant, and anchored under the protection of a battery. Austria--the
nation to whom the island belonged--was not at war with England; she was
preserving what is called an "armed neutrality."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Pray what is the meaning of an armed neutrality?" demanded the pacha.
"It varies according to circumstances, your highness, but, generally
speaking, it means a charge of bayonets."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The frigate followed; and being prevented by the shallowness of the
water from approaching sufficiently near to us herself, sent her boats
to examine us: but as there were six of them full of men, and each
mounting a gun at her bow, our captain thought it advisable to refuse
them permission to come on board. As a hint that he disapproved of
their measures, he poured his whole broadside of round and grape into
them, when they were about a quarter of a mile distant: upon which they
gave three cheers, and were obstinate enough to pull faster towards us
than ever.
We received them with all the honours of war, in the shape of cutlasses,
pistols, and boarding pikes but they were very determined. As soon as
one was knocked down, another jumped up in his place; and somehow or
another they had possession of the ship in less time than I have been
telling the story. I was on the poop when an English sailor, with a
pigtail as thick as a cable, made a cut at me; I ran back to avoid the
blow, and, in so doing, came with such force against another of their
men, that we both tumbled overboard together. I lost my cutlass, but he
had not parted with his; and as soon as we rose to the surface, he
seized me by the collar, and presented the point to my breast. It
seemed to be all the same to him whether he fought on the deck or in the
water. Fortunately I shifted a little on one side, and he only drove it
through my jacket. I recollected that I had my razor in my pocket,
which I took out under the water unperceived, and, closing with him
before he could repeat his thrust, I cut his throat from ear to ear, and
then made for the shore as fast as I could. As I swam remarkably well,
I had no great difficulty in reaching it. As soon as I landed, I looked
back, and observing that the English boats were towing our vessel out, I
made all the haste I could to the fort, which was close at hand. There
I was hospitably received; and we sat up till past midnight, drinking,
smoking, and abusing the English.
The next morning, a felucca anchored to procure some water; and, as she
was proceeding to Toulon, I requested a passage. We sailed with a fine
breeze; but a heavy gale came on, which tossed us about for many days,
and the master of the vessel had no idea to where she had been driven.
He consoled us, however, by asserting that we could never go to the
bottom, as there was a lady of great sanctity passenger in the cabin,
who had been sent for to assume the office of lady abbess of a convent
near Marseilles, and whom the saints would indubitably preserve.
This was some comfort, although fine weather would have been greater.
The gale continued; and the next morning we thought that we descried
land on the lee beam. The following night we were certain of our
conjectures having been correct, for the vessel was thrown on shore, and
in a few minutes went to pieces. I had the good fortune to save myself
upon a part of the wreck, and lay half-dead upon the beach until the
morning. When the day broke, I looked around me: there were the
fragments of the vessel strewed upon the beach, or tossed in mockery by
the surge; and close to me lay the dead body of the lady, whose sanctity
the captain had assured us would be a safeguard to us all. I then
turned from the beach to look at the inland country, and perceived, to
my astonishment, that I was not three miles from my native city,
Marseilles. This was a horrid discovery; for I knew that I should
receive no mercy, and could not proceed a mile without being recognised.
What to do was now the subject of my thoughts; and at last, as I viewed
the body of the dead lady, it occurred to me that I might pass myself
off for her.
I stripped it of its outer garment; and having then hauled my own
clothes upon the corpse, and covered it over with sea-weed, I dressed
myself in the religious habit which she had worn, and sat down awaiting
the arrival of the people, which I knew must soon take place. I was
then without a symptom of beard; and from the hardship and ill-treatment
which I had received on board of the Genoese, was thin and sallow in the
face. It was easy in a nun's dress to mistake me for a woman of
thirty-five years of age, who had been secluded in a cloister. In the
pockets of her clothes I found letters, which gave me the necessary clue
to my story, and I resolved to pass myself off as La Soeur Eustasie,
rather than he put in prison, or run through the body.
I had scarcely time to finish reading these documents when a party,
attracted by the fragments on the beach, came up to me. I narrated the
loss of the vessel, the death of the whole crew, my name and condition,
my having come over at the request of the bishop to assume the guidance
of the convent of St. Therese; and added, that I had called upon the
Virgin in my distress, who had come to my aid, and floated me on shore
with as much care and comfort as if I had been reposing on cushions of
down. The report was spread, and credited; for the circumstance of a
helpless woman being the sole survivor of a whole crew was miracle
enough in itself.
The bishop's carriage was sent for me, and I was conducted into the
town, followed by a concourse of priests, monks and common people, who
were anxious to kiss even the ground that had been trod upon by a
personage so especially under the protection of Heaven. I was conducted
to the bishop's palace, where I held a sort of court, being visited by
deputations from the official bodies, the governor, and all the people
of consequence. After a sojourn of three days, I removed to the convent
of which I was the supposed abbess, and was enthusiastically received by
the nuns, who flocked round me with mingled veneration and delight.
On the second day of my establishment as abbess, the two elder sisters,
who could with difficulty he got rid of even when I retired to bed the
night before, introduced the whole of the nuns in rotation, beginning
with the elder, and ending with those who last took the vow of chastity.
I felt little interest, I must confess, at the commencement of my
levee; but as it came near to a close, many beautiful countenances
attracted my attention, and I gave the kiss of peace with more zest than
prudence would have justified. The last of the sisterhood came forward,
and was introduced as Soeur Marie. Gracious Heaven! it was the poor
girl whom I had deserted. I started when I saw her advance: her eyes
were bent upon the ground, as if in reverence to my acknowledged
sanctity. As she knelt before me to receive the kiss, she raised them
up. Love can pierce through all disguises.--At the moment, she thought
that she beheld her fugitive lover, and caught her breath in amazement--
but recollection pointed out to her the utter impossibility of the fact,
and she sighed at the uncommon likeness, as she received the kiss from
those lips which had indeed been so often pressed to hers before.
When the ceremony had been gone through I complained of fatigue, and
requested to be left alone.
I wished to reflect upon what had passed, and determine how I was to
act: to escape the danger which threatened me, I had placed myself in a
situation of still greater difficulty. Where could it end? After a
long reverie, I decided that I would make Marie my _confidante_, and
trust to circumstances to guide my future conduct. I rang the bell,
and, requesting the presence of the elder sister of the convent,
commenced an inquiry into the different characters of the nuns who had
been presented.
Flattered by the confidence demanded, there was no end to the loquacity
and the ill-natured remarks of the old beldame: she held her list in her
hand, and ran over the families and private history of each. It was two
hours before she had finished, which she did with Marie, of whose
history she gave me a most minute detail; and if she was as correct in
her reports of all the others, I certainly had no reason to compliment
myself upon being abbess, so far as the previous characters of the nuns
under my surveillance were concerned. "Good sister," replied I, "I
thank you for your information, which I shall not fail to profit by in
my plans for the improvement of the morality of those under my charge.
I have always made it a rule, that one of the sisterhood should remain
in my room every night, to watch and do penance. I have found that when
coupled with my seasonable exhortations, it has produced an excellent
effect. Of course I allude not to sage and devout women like you; I
refer to those who in their folly and their flow of youthful passions,
have not yet humbled themselves sufficiently by abstinence and
mortification. Who would you propose to watch here this night?"
The old beldame, who I had perceived by the violence of her manner had a
dislike to Marie, immediately mentioned her as one to whom severe
penance would be of especial benefit. I conversed with her for another
half-hour; then, wishing her good night, prepared for bed, and requested
that Marie might be summoned to attend.
Marie entered with her book of _Prieres_ in her hand, and, bowing humbly
to me as she passed, sat down near to the lamp which was lighted before
an image of the Virgin, at the farther end of the room, and commenced
her task of watching and of prayer.
"Marie," said I, as I stood by the bed: she uttered a faint scream as
she heard my voice for the first time, and throwing herself down upon
her knees before the image of the Virgin, covered her face with her
hands, and appeared to be in silent but earnest supplication.
"Marie," again said I, "come here." She rose, and came trembling to the
foot of the bed. "To you, and to you alone, do I intrust a secret
which, if discovered, would subject me to a painful and ignominious
death. You were not deceived, when you started at the face beneath the
nun's attire! and you must now be certain, from the voice which you have
heard, that I am indeed Francois. How I became the lady abbess of this
convent you have yet to learn." I then narrated what I have already
done to your highness. "By what means," continued I, "I am to deliver
myself from this dangerous situation, I know not; I have, however, one
consolation, in finding myself once more in company with the object of
my love. Come hither, Marie; it is indeed your own Francois."
Marie remained at the foot of the bed, but advanced not; and I perceived
that the tears fell fast, as she cast her eyes to heaven.
"Speak to me, Marie, if ever you loved me."
"That I loved you, Francois, you know full well: not even your unkind
desertion could affect that love, which was unchangeable. I dared all
for your sake; my brothers, my father, could not extort the secret from
me, and their suspicions although directed towards you, could never be
confirmed. I bore the offspring of my guilt in solitary anguish,
afterwards loaded with reproaches when I needed comfort and consolation,
and stunned with imprecations when I required soothing and repose. I
buried it with shame and sorrow and contumely. You had abandoned me,
and I felt that all ties to this world were over. I took the veil; and
never was the world quitted by so willing a votary as myself. I have
since been peaceful, if not happy."
"And now, Marie, you shall be happy," cried I, stretching out my arms to
her. "Come to me, I will explain my motives for leaving Marseilles, and
what my future intentions were, if they had not been frustrated by
unforeseen events. All shall yet be well."
"Francois, all is well. I have taken a solemn vow--it is registered in
Heaven. You have by fraud and imposition entered into a holy place, and
assumed a holy character. Add not to your crime by even harbouring the
idea of impropriety, and add not to my humiliation by supposing for a
moment that I am capable of being a participator.
"Holy Virgin," cried she, falling on her knees, "I demand thy powerful
aid in this conflict of worldly passions and holy wishes. Oh! make me
dead to all but thee, and to the spouse whom I have accepted at thy
hands."
She then rose, and continued--"How you will be able to leave this
convent, Francois, I know not; but your secret is safe with me, provided
that you do not again request my presence, as you have this night. My
prayers shall ever be for you; but we must meet no more!" and Marie
waved her hand mournfully, and quitted the apartment.
Although I had always a great contempt for the Catholic religion, of
which I at that period was a member, I was awed by the beauty of virtue
as it appeared in Marie, and I passed the night in melancholy
reflections. I felt more love for her than ever, and determined upon
persuading her to quit the convent and become my wife. The next morning
I sent for her.
"Marie, you gave yourself to heaven, when you imagined that you had no
tie upon earth. You were deceived; there was one whom you still loved,
and who still adored you. Vows made in delusion are not registered.
Leave this convent with me, become my wife, and you will do your duty
better towards heaven than by pining between these walls, which contain
nothing but envy, hatred, and remorse."
"Francois, you have had my answer. What has been done, cannot be
undone. Save yourself, and leave me to my unhappy fate," answered
Marie: then bursting into tears, "O Francois, why, why did you leave me
without one word? Had you but pointed out your danger to me, I should
have been the first to have insisted upon your absence, and all, all
would have been borne with patience, if not with pleasure, for your
sake. If what you now say is truth, all would have been well; but now I
have nought to cheer me in my lonely pilgrimage, and nought to wish but
that it soon may come unto its close. I forgive you, Francois; but pity
me, for I deserve your pity."
"Once more, Marie, I intreat you to consent to my proposal."
"Never, Francois; I will not be less faithful to my God than I was to
you: he will not desert me; and if I suffer now, will reward me for it
hereafter." And Marie again quitted my apartment.
My situation in the nunnery now became insupportable, and I determined
to escape. I pleaded ill-health, and kept my bed. The physician of a
neighbouring convent, who had a great reputation, was sent for against
my wishes. When I heard of his arrival, I dressed to receive him for I
was fearful of some scrutiny. He inquired what ailed me: I answered
that I had no pain, but that I was convinced I should soon depart. He
felt my pulse, and, not being able to discover symptoms of disease, took
his leave.
To the elder sisters who visited me, I spoke in enigmas, and told them
that I had a summons, that they must expect soon to find me gone: and
the sanctity of my reputation made them receive my innuendoes as
inspired remarks. One night, I complained of being much worse, and
requested their early retiring: they would have sent for the physician,
but I forbad it, telling them I was beyond a physician's cure: kissing
them all, and pronouncing over them a solemn blessing, I dismissed them.
As soon as it was dark, I threw off my nun's attire, leaving it in my
bed, as if I had slipped out of it; and as the windows of my apartment,
which looked into the convent garden, were not barred, unclothed as I
was I dropped down, and reached the ground in safety. I took the
precaution, when I was outside, to shut the window, that my having
escaped should not enter their ideas, and climbing a tree which overhung
the wall of the garden, dropped from a bough on the other side, and
found myself at liberty. As I knew that the farther I was from the
nunnery, the less chance I had of being supposed an impostor, I gained
the high road, and ran as fast as I could in the direction from
Marseilles to Toulouse.
I had proceeded several miles without encountering any body at that
still hour of the night, occasionally alarmed at the barking of some
snarling cur, as I passed through the small villages in my route,--when,
worn out with fatigue and cold, I sat down under a hedge to screen
myself from the cold "mistral" which blew. As the wind lulled, I heard
sounds of voices in lamentation, which appeared to proceed from the road
at a short distance. I rose, and continued my route, when I stumbled
over the body of a man. I examined him by the faint light that was
emitted from the stars. He was quite dead; and it immediately occurred
to me that a robbery had been committed, and the lamentations which I
had heard proceeded from those who had escaped with their lives. The
cloak of the dead man was lying underneath him; it was a capote, such as
are worn by officers. I unclasped it from his neck, round which it was
fastened with two bear's-paws chased in silver, and, wrapping it round
my benumbed limbs, proceeded further on to where I now occasionally
heard voices much plainer than before. I again fell in with two more
prostrate bodies, and, as the day had now begun to break, perceived that
they were clothed like people of low condition. Passing my hand over
their faces, I felt that they were quite dead and stiff. Afraid that if
found close to the spot, and unable to give any account of myself, I
should be accused of murder, I thought of immediate flight; but the
plaintive voice of a woman met my ears, and it was an appeal that I
could not resist. I proceeded a few yards further, and perceived a
carriage, the horses of which lay dead in their traces, with the driver
beside them. To the hind wheels were secured with ropes an elderly man
and a young woman.
"God be praised, my dear father, help is at hand!" said the young woman,
as I approached; and as I came close to them, she cried out, "Oh, I know
him by his cloak; it's the gentleman who defended us so gallantly, and
whom we supposed to have been killed. Are you much hurt, sir?"
Aware that I had better be any body than myself; with my usual invention
and presence of mind I replied, "Not much, madam, thanks be to Heaven!
I was stunned, and they left me for dead: I am happy that I am still
alive, to be of service to you:" and I immediately proceeded to cast
loose the ropes by which the father and daughter (as by their
conversation they appeared to be) had been confined to the wheels. The
robbers had stripped them both nearly to the skin, and they were so
numbed with the cold that they could scarcely stand when they were
unbound,--the poor girl especially, who shivered as if suffering under a
tertian ague. I proposed that they should enter the carriage as the
best shelter they could receive from the bitter keen wind which blew,
and they agreed to the prudence of my suggestion.
"If I am not requesting too great a favour, sir," said the old
gentleman, "I wish you would lend my poor daughter that cloak, for she
is perishing with the cold."
"I will with pleasure, sir, as soon as you are both in the carriage,"
replied I; for I had made up my mind how to proceed. I assisted them
in, and, shutting the door, slipped off the cloak and put it in at the
window, saying, "Believe me, madam, I should have offered it to you
before, but the fact is, the rascals served me, as I lay stunned, in the
same manner as they have you; and I must now go in search of something
to cover myself." I then went off at a quick pace, hearing the young
woman exclaim, "Oh, my father, he has stripped himself to cover me." I
immediately returned to the body of the gentleman whose cloak I had
borrowed, and for whom I had no doubt that I had been mistaken. I
stripped off all the clothes from his rigid limbs, and put them on: they
fitted me exactly, and, what was more fortunate, were not stained with
blood, as he had received his death-wound from a bullet in the brain. I
then dragged the body to the other side of the hedge, where I threw it
into a ditch, and covered it with long grass, that it might not be
discovered. Daylight had made its appearance before I had completed my
toilet; and when I came back to the carriage, the old gentleman was loud
in his thanks. I told him that in returning to strip one of the other
bodies I had found my own clothes in a bundle, which the robbers had
left in their haste to escape from pursuit.
The young lady said nothing, but sat shrouded up in the cloak, in one
corner of the carriage. I now entered into conversation with the old
gentleman, who explained to me how the attack began, before I had come
to their assistance: and from the information I received from him, I was
enabled to form a very good idea of the story that I was to tell. I
found that I had been on horseback with my servant, when I rode to their
assistance; that we had been both supposed to be killed, and that we
were about five miles from any post town.
By this time it was broad daylight, and I made another discovery, which
was, that I was wearing an officer's undress. Anxious to gratify my
curiosity by a sight of the young lady, I turned to her as she lay
muffled up in the cloak, and expressed a hope that she did not feel
cold. She put her head out, and answered in the negative with such a
sweet smile, upon such a sweet face as I never had before witnessed. I
looked at her as if transfixed, and did not take my eyes off until she
blushed, and again sank back as before.
This brought me to my recollection; I offered to go for assistance, and
my services were thankfully accepted. I passed by the men who had been
killed, as I went on my mission: one was habited in a livery similar to
the coach-man who lay dead by his horses; the other was in that of a
groom, and I took it for granted that he had been my servant. I
searched in his pockets for information; and, collecting the contents,
commenced reading them as I walked along.
By his memoranda I found out that I had come from Aix. By letters and
papers in my own pockets I ascertained who I was, who my father was, to
what regiment I belonged, that I was on leave of absence, and that I had
a brother, whose affectionate letter I read carefully for further
information. I had not time to count a considerable sum of money, which
was in my purse, before I fell in with a countryman, who was leading his
horses to the plough. Briefly narrating the circumstances, I offered
him a handsome remuneration, if he would mount one of his horses, and
procure immediate assistance. Having seen him off in a hand-gallop, I
returned to the carriage to try if it were possible to have one more
view of that face which had so enchanted me. I stated the good fortune
I had met with, and my hopes of a speedy deliverance from their trouble.
I answered the old gentleman's inquiry of the name and condition of the
person to whom he and his daughter had been so much indebted; talked of
my father the Comte de Rouille, of my regiment; and then requested a
similar confidence.
He was le Marquis de Tonseca, and the young lady was his daughter; they
were proceeding to their chateau about seven miles distant, where he
hoped I would accompany them, and allow him an opportunity of showing
his gratitude.
I hesitated, talked of engagements--not that I intended to refuse the
invitation, but because the young lady had not joined in the request.
My plan had the desired effect; again the lovely face appeared from
under the cloak, and the sweetest voice in the world expressed a wish
that I would not refuse her father's invitation. I blushed, and
stammered consent. Pleased at her victory, she smiled, and again was
folded up in the cloak, which I could have torn to pieces for its
envious concealment.
Assistance had now arrived; a crowd of people, headed by an officer to
take the _proces verbal_, and two pair of post-horses came up; the
deposition of the marquis and myself were briefly taken; his, as to what
he had seen, and mine "to the best of my knowledge and belief." The
papers were signed, the dead bodies were carried off, the horses put to;
and, at the request of the marquis, I took my seat in the carriage
between him and his daughter, and we proceeded to the chateau.
In two hours we arrived at a magnificent pile, which bespoke the wealth
and ancestry of the owner; and I had the pleasure of carrying in my
arms, up the long flight of steps by which we ascended to the entrance,
the beautiful girl, muffled up as she was in the cloak. As soon as I
had laid her down upon a sofa, I left her to the care of the females who
were in attendance, and quitted the room. The marquis had retired to
his own apartment, to supply the deficiencies in his attire, and for a
short time I was left alone to my own reflections. What is to be the
result of all this? thought I. Is there to be no end of my assumption
of the clothes and titles of other people,--this continual
transmigration before death? Yet how much more has it depended upon
circumstances than upon myself!
After much reflection, I determined upon letting things take their own
course, trusting to my own ready invention and good fortune for the
issue. I felt it to be impossible to tear myself from the sweet
creature whose personal charms had already fascinated me, and I vowed
that there was no risk, no danger, that I would not brave to obtain her
love.
In an hour we met at the breakfast-table, and I was more than ever
enchanted;--but I will not detain your highness by dwelling too long
upon the subject.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"No, don't, yaha bibi, my friend," said the pacha, yawning, "your story
gets very dry already. We'll suppose the cypress waist, the stag's
eyes, and full moon of her face. We Musselmen don't talk so much about
women; but I suppose as you were a Frenchman, and very young then, you
knew no better. Why you talk of women as if they had souls!" The
renegade did not think it advisable to express his opinion in
contradiction to that of his highness, and the assertions of the
Prophet. "It cannot be said that I behaved to them as if they had,"
replied he; "and before I changed my religion, I was often smitten with
remorse for my selfish and unfeeling conduct towards Marie; but all that
is passed, I am now a Turk;" and the renegade passed his hand over his
brow; for some long, smothered feelings of virtue had been conjured up
by remorse, as he was reminded of the career of guilt which he had run
through, and which he had climaxed by the denial of his Redeemer. After
a short pause he continued--
------------------------------------------------------------------------
For a week I remained in the society of the marquis and his daughter,
daily ingratiating myself more and more with both. I had not declared
my passion to his daughter, for there was something that irresistibly
prevented me; yet I knew that I was not viewed with indifference. Our
party was then increased by the appearance of the Bishop of Toulouse,
the brother of the marquis, who came to congratulate him and his niece
upon their fortunate escape. I was presented as the gentleman who had
so materially assisted. The bishop stared at me with surprise.
"It is strange," observed he, "that a body has been found in a ditch,
near to where the robbery occurred, and has been recognised to be that
of the very young officer to whom you now introduce me. How can this
be?"
The marquis and his daughter appeared astonished at the intelligence
(and in truth so was I), but it was only for a second. "How say you,
sir," exclaimed I, with trepidation, "a body recognised as the son of
the Comte de Rouille? My poor, poor brother! my dear Victor have you
then perished? what injustice have I done you!"
Throwing myself on the fauteuil, I covered my face with my handkerchief,
as if overpowered with grief; but, in reality, I was reflecting what I
should say next.
"Your brother!" exclaimed the marquis in surprise.
"Yes, marquis, my brother. I will now state the circumstances which
induced me to conceal from you that he was in my company at the time of
the attack. When I galloped to your assistance, I was followed by my
brother, who was riding with me to Marseilles, and of whom you recollect
I have spoken; but after the first discharge of fire-arms I found that
he was not at my side, and I imagined that he had deserted me from fear.
I could not bear that such a disgrace upon the family should be known,
and I therefore made no mention of him when I came back. Little did I
think, that while I was accusing him in my heart of cowardice, he was
dead, and his heart's blood had been poured out in my defence. Victor,
my dear Victor!" continued I, "how great has been my injustice, and what
can repay me for your loss?" and I threw myself down on the sofa, as if
frantic with grief.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Huckaback," observed the pacha, "it appears to me that in your younger
days you were a great scoundrel."
"I acknowledge it," replied the renegade; "but, in extenuation, your
highness must call to mind that at that time I was a Christian."
"By the beard of the Prophet, that is well said, and very true!" replied
the pacha.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The marquis and his brother were shocked at having so unintentionally
plunged me into affliction. They offered consolation; but finding their
endeavours fruitless, quitted the room, thinking it advisable to leave
me to myself. Cerise, for that was the name of the daughter, remained,
and after a short pause came to me, and in her silvery voice, as she
laid her hand upon my shoulder, addressed me:--
"Console yourself, my dear Felix;" but I made no answer. "How unhappy I
am!" said she: "it was in my defence that he lost his life: it was to
your courage that I am indebted for my preservation:--he is dead, and
you are miserable. Can nothing repay you for the loss of your
brother?--Nothing, Felix?"
I raised my head; her eyes were swimming with tears, and beaming with
love. As I resumed my seat upon the sofa, I drew her gently towards me.
She offered no resistance, and in a moment she had sunk down by my
side, as my arms entwined her beauteous form.
"Yes," murmured I, "Cerise, I am repaid." Smiling through her blushes,
she disengaged herself, and rose to depart. Returning once more at my
request, I imprinted a kiss upon her brow: she waved her hand, and
hastened out of the room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"That was a very nice girl, by your description," interrupted the pacha:
"pray what might you pay for such a girl in your country?"
"She was beyond all price," replied the renegade, with an absent air, as
if communing with times past. "Love is not to be bought. The Moslem
purchases the slave and blind submission to his will, but he makes not
love."
"No, he buys it ready made," replied the pacha; "and I must say I wish
you had done the same; for, with all this love-making, you get on but
slowly with your story. Proceed."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I remained another week, when the bishop, who had not yet taken his
departure, one morning drove over to Marseilles, and returned to dinner.
"I was sent for," observed he, as we sat down to table, "to consult as
to the propriety of requesting from the Pope the canonisation of the
Soeur Eustasie, of whom you have heard so much, and whose disappearance
has been attributed to miraculous agency: but during our consultation, a
piece of information was sent in, which has very much changed the
opinion of parties as to her reputed sanctity. It appears that near the
spot where the vessel was wrecked they have discovered the body of a
woman dressed in man's clothes; and it is now supposed that some
miscreant has personified her at the convent, and has subsequently
escaped. The officers of justice are making the strictest search; and
if the individual is found, he will be sent to Rome to be disposed of by
the Inquisition."
As your highness may imagine, this was not very agreeable news: I almost
started from my chair when I heard it; but I had sufficient mastery over
myself to conceal my feelings, although every morsel that I put into my
mouth nearly choked me.
But before dinner was over the plot thickened; a letter was brought to
the marquis from my adopted father, the Comte de Rouille, stating that
such contradictory reports had been received, that he could not
ascertain the truth. From one he heard that his eldest son was alive,
and at the chateau; from others that he had been murdered; others
congratulated him in their letters upon the escape of one of his sons.
He requested the marquis to inform him of the real state of affairs, and
to let him know by the bearer whether his eldest son was with him, or
whether he had met with the unfortunate death that was reported; and as
his youngest son was at home, and had been there for some months, he
could not but imagine, as both of them were mentioned in the reports,
that there might be some imposture in the business.
I perceived by the change of countenance in the marquis that affairs
were not going well, and was to a certain degree prepared, when he
gravely handed the letter to the bishop; who; having read it, passed it
over to me, saying, with a stern look, "This concerns you, sir." I read
it with a composed countenance, and, returning it to the marquis, I
observed with a sigh, "There is no kindness in such deception; the blow
will only fall heavier upon the old man when it does come. You are
aware, sir, I mentioned, it to you (or rather, I believe, it was to
Mademoiselle Cerise), that my father is blind, and has been so for the
last two years. They have been afraid to tell him the truth, and have
made him believe that Victor is there. You must know, sir, that it was
clandestinely that my dear brother quitted his father's house to
accompany me. Unhappy hour when I yielded to his intreaties! But,
monsieur le marquis, I perceive that it is now imperative that I should
go to my father; he will need the assurance of my existence to support
him in his grief. I will therefore, with your permission, write a few
lines by the bearer of this communication, and to-morrow morning at
daylight must unwillingly tear myself away from your charming society."
The cool and confident air with which I answered, removed suspicion; and
having written a few lines to the comte, and requested from the marquis
the loan of his seal, I applied the wax, and desired the servant to
deliver it as an answer to the messenger, whom I was not sorry to see
galloping by the window. "Oh," cried I, "'tis Pierre: had I known that,
I should have asked him some questions."
This well-timed exclamation of mine, I perceived, did not fail to have
its weight. We again sat down to table, and I was treated with more
than usual kindness by the marquis and his brother, as if in
compensation for their having, for a moment, harboured a suspicion of my
honesty. But I was ill at ease; and I felt that I never had acted with
more prudence than in proposing my early departure.
In the evening I was alone with Cerise. Since the news of my brother's
death, and the scene that followed, we had sworn unalterable love; and
in that instance only was I sincere. I loved her to desperation, and I
dote on her memory now, though years have rolled away, and she has long
been mingled with the dead. Yes, Cerise, if from the regions of bliss,
where thy pure spirit dwells, thou canst look down upon a wretch so
loaded with guilt as I am, oh, turn not away with horror, but view with
pity one who loved as fondly as man could love, and hereafter will care
little for all that Paradise can offer if thy fair spirit must not bid
him welcome!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I wish, Huckaback," observed the pacha, angrily, "that you would go on
with your story: you are talking to a dead woman, instead of a live
pacha."
"I intreat your pardon," replied the renegade; "but to amuse your
highness, I have entered into scenes which long have been dismissed from
my memory and the feelings attending them will rise up, and cannot well
be checked. I will be more careful as I proceed."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cerise was melancholy at the idea of my departure. I kissed the tears
away, and the time flew rapidly. I persuaded her to allow me an
interview after the family had retired, as I had much to say to her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, well, we'll suppose all that," observed the pacha, impatiently:
"now go on; you remember you were to set off in the morning."
"Yes, yes, your highness," replied the renegade, somewhat displeased.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
And I did set off in the morning upon one of the marquis's horses, and
rode as hard as I could to Toulon. I determined again to try my fortune
at sea, as I was afraid that I should be discovered if I remained on
shore. I purchased a small venture with the money in my purse, and
having made my agreement with the captain of a vessel bound to St.
Domingo, exchanged my dress for a jacket and trousers; and was again at
the mercy of the waves.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Such, your highness, is the history of my First Voyage, and the
incidents which resulted from it."
"Well," said the pacha, rising, "there was too much love, and too little
sea in it; but, I suppose, if you had left the first out it would not
have been so long. Mustapha, give him five pieces of gold, and we will
have his Second Voyage to-morrow."
As soon as the pacha had retired, the renegade growled out, "If I am to
tell any more stories, I must not be checked and dictated to. I could
have talked for an hour after I had met Cerise, if I had not been
interrupted: as it was I cut the matter short."
"But, Selim," replied Mustapha, "the pacha is not fond of these sort of
adventures: he likes something much more marvellous. Could you not
embellish a little?"
"How do you mean?"
"Holy Prophet! what do I mean!--Why, tell a few lies,--not adhere quite
so much to matter of fact."
"Adhere to matter of fact, vizier!--why, I have not stated a single fact
yet!"
"What! is not all this true?"
"Not one word of it, as I hope to go to Heaven!"
"Bismillah!--what not about Marie and the convent--and Cerise?"
"All lies from beginning to end."
"And were you never a barber?"
"Never in my life."
"Then why did you make such long apostrophes to the dead Cerise, when
you observed that the pacha was impatient?"
"Merely because I was at fault, vizier, and wished to gain time, to
consider what I should say next."
"Selim," replied Mustapha, "you have great talent; but mind that your
next voyage is more wonderful; I presume it will make no difference to
you."
"None whatever; but the pacha is not a man of taste. Now give me my
five pieces, and I'll be off: I'm choked with thirst, and shall not be
comfortable till I have drunk at least a gallon of wine."
"Holy Prophet! what a Turk!" exclaimed the vizier; lifting up his hands.
"Here is your money, kafir;--don't forget to be here to-morrow."
"Never fear me, vizier; your slave lives but to obey you, we Turks say."
"We Turks!" muttered the vizier, as he cast his eyes upon the retiring
figure of the renegade. "Well of all the scoundrels--"
"Well," muttered the renegade, who was now out of hearing, "of all the
scoundrels--"
Whom they were referring to in their separate soliloquies must be left
to the reader's imagination; for caution prevented either of the parties
from giving vent to the remainder of their thoughts.