He told them of men that cared not a d--n
For the law or the new police,
And had very few scruples for killing a lamb,
If they fancied they wanted the fleece.
Sir Peter's Lament
When Roland Cashel rejoined Mr. Simms, he found that worthy individual
solacing himself for the privations of prairie travel, by such a
breakfast as only Don Pedro's larder would produce. Surrounded by
various dishes whose appetizing qualities might have suffered some
impairment from a more accurate knowledge of their contents,--sucking
monkeys and young squirrels among the number,--he tasted and sipped, and
sipped again, till between the seductions of sangaree and Curaçoa punch,
he had produced that pleasing frame of mind when even a less gorgeous
scene than the windows of the villa displayed before him would have
appeared delightful. Whether poor Mr. Simms's excess--and such we are
compelled to confess it was--could be excused on the score of long
fasting, or the consciousness that he had a right to some indulgence in
the hour of victory, he assuredly revelled in the fullest enjoyment of
this luxurious banquet, and, as Cashel entered the room, had reached the
delicious dreamland of misty consciousness, where his late adventures
and his former life became most pleasingly commingled, and jaguars,
alligators, gambusinos, and rancheros, danced through his brain in
company with Barons of the Exchequer and Masters in Chancery.
Elevated by the scenes of danger he had passed through,--some real, the
far greater number imaginary,--into the dignity of a hero, he preferred
rather to discuss prairie life and scenes in the Havannah, to dwelling
on the topics so nearly interesting to Cashel. Nor was Roland a very
patient listener to digressions, which, at every moment, left the
high-road, and wandered into every absurd by-path of personal history.
“I always thought, sir,” said Simms, “and used to say it everywhere,
too, what a splendid change for you this piece of good fortune would be,
springing at a bound, as a body might say, from a powder-monkey into the
wealth of a peer of the realm; but, egad, when I see the glorious life
you lead hereabouts, such grog, such tipple, capital house, magnificent
country, and, if I may pronounce from the view beneath my window, no
lack of company, too! I begin to feel doubts about it.”
If Cashel was scarcely pleased at the allusions to himself in this
speech, he speedily forgave them in his amusement at the commentary
Simms passed on life at the villa; but yet would willingly have turned
from either theme to that most engrossing one,--the circumstances of
his altered fortune. Simms, however, was above such grovelling subjects;
and, as he sat, glass in hand, gazing out upon the garden, where
strolling parties came and went, and loitering groups lingered in the
shade, he really fancied the scene a perfect paradise.
“Very hard to leave this, you'll find it!” exclaimed Simms. “I can well
imagine life here must be rare fun. How jolly they do seem down there!”
said he, with a half-longing look at the strange figures, who now and
then favored him with a salute or a gesture of the hand, as they passed.
“Come, let us join them,” said Cashel, who, despairing of recalling him
to the wished-for topic, was fain to consent to indulge the stranger's
humor.
“All naval men?” asked Simms, as they issued forth into the lawn.
“Most of them are sailors!” said Cashel, equivocating.
“That's a fine-looking old fellow beneath the beech-tree, with the long
Turkish pipe in his mouth. He's captain of a seventy-four, I take it.”
“He's a Greek merchantman,” whispered Cashel; “don't look so hard at
him, for he observes you, and is somewhat irascible in temper, if stared
at.”
“Indeed! I should n't have thought--”
“No matter, do as I tell you; he stabbed a travelling artist the other
day, who fancied he was a fine study, and wished to make a drawing of
his head.”
Simms's jaw dropped suddenly, and a sickly faintness stole over him,
that even all his late potations could not supply courage enough to hear
such a story unmoved.
“And who is he, sir, yonder?” asked he, as a youth, with no other
clothing than a shirt and trousers, was fencing against a tree,
practising, by bounds and springs, every imaginable species of attack
and assault.
“A young Spaniard from the Basque,” said Cashel, coolly; “he has a duel
to-morrow with some fellow in Barcelonetta, and he 's getting his wrist
into play.” Then calling out, he said, “Ah, José, you mean to let blood,
I see!”
“He's only a student,” said the youth, with an insolent toss of his
head. “But who have we here?”
“A friend and countryman of mine, Mr. Simms,” said Cashel, introducing
the little man, who performed a whole circuit round the young Spaniard
in salutations.
“Come to join us?” asked the youth, surveying him with cool
impertinence. “What in the devil's name hast thou done that thou
shouldst leave the Old World at thy time of life? Virtuous living or
hypocrisy ought to have become a habit with thee ere now, old boy, eh?”
“He's only on a visit,” said Cashel, laughing; “he can return to good
society, not like all of us here.”
“Would you infer from that, sir--”
“Keep your temper, José,” said Cashel, with an indescribable assumption
of insolent superiority; “or, if you cannot, keep your courage for the
students, whose broils best suit you.”
“You presume somewhat too far on your skill with the rapier, Senhor
Cashel,” said the other, but in a voice far less elevated than before.
“You can test the presumption at any moment,” said Cashel, insolently;
“now, if you like it.”
“Oh, Mr. Cashel! oh, Mr. Roland! for mercy's sake, don't!” exclaimed
Simms.
“Never fear,” interposed Cashel; “that excellent young man has better
principles than you fancy, and never neglects, though he sometimes
forgets, himself.”
So saying, he leisurely passed his arm beneath Simms's, and led him
forward.
“Good day, Senhor Cashel,” said a tall and well-dressed man, who made
his salutations with a certain air of distinction that induced Simms to
inquire who and what he was.
“A general in the service of one of the minor States of Germany,” said
Cashel; “a man of great professional skill, and, it is said, of great
personal bravery.”
“And in what capacity is he here?”
“A refugee. His sentence to be shot was commuted to imprisonment for
life. He made his escape from Spandau, and came here.”
“What was his crime?”
“Treachery,--the very basest one can well conceive; he commanded the
fort of Bergstein, which the French attacked on their advance in the
second Austrian campaign. The assailants had no heavy artillery, nor
any material for escalade; but they had money, and gold proved a
better battering-train than lead. Plittersdorf--that's the general's
name--fired over their heads till he had expended all his ammunition,
and then surrendered, with the garrison, as prisoners of war. The
French, however, exchanged him afterwards, and he very nearly paid the
penalty of his false faith.”
“And now is he shunned,--do people avoid him?”
“How should they? How many here are privileged to look down on a
traitor? Is it the runaway merchant, the defaulting bank clerk, the
filching commissary, that can say shame to one whose crime stands higher
in the scale of offence? The best we can know of any one here is, that
his rascality took an aspiring turn; and yet there are some fellows
one would not like to think ill of. Here comes one such; and as I have
something like business to treat of with him, I 'll ask you to wait for
me, on this bench, till I join you.”
Without waiting for any reply, Cashel hastened forward, and taking off
his hat, saluted a sallow-looking man of some eight-and-forty or fifty
years of age, who, in a loose morning-gown, and with a book in his hand,
was strolling along in one of the alleys.
“Ha, lieutenant,” said the other, as, lifting up his eyes, he recognized
Cashel,--“making the most of these short hours of pleasure, eh? You 've
heard the news, I suppose; we shall be soon afloat again.”
“So I've heard, captain!” replied Cashel; “but I believe we have taken
our last cruise together.”
“How so, lad? _You_ look well, and in spirits; and as for myself, I
never felt in better humor than to try a bout with our friends on the
western coast.”
“You have no friend, captain, can better like to hear you say so; and as
for me, the chances of fortune have changed. I have discovered that I
need neither risk head nor limbs for gold; a worthy man has arrived here
to-day with tidings that I am the owner of a large estate, and more
money than I shall well know how to squander, and so--”
“And so you 'll leave us for the land where men have learned that art?
Quite right, Cashel. At your age a man can accustom himself to any and
everything; at mine--a little later--at mine, for instance, the task is
harder. I remember myself, some years ago, fancying that I should enjoy
prodigiously that life of voluptuous civilization they possess in
the Old World, where men's wants are met ere they are well felt, and
hundreds--ay, thousands--are toiling and thinking to minister to the
rich man's pleasures. It so chanced that I took a prize a few weeks
after; she was a Portuguese barque with specie, broad doubloons and gold
bars for the mint at Lisbon, and so I threw up my command and went
over to France and to Paris. The first dash was glorious; all was
new, glittering, and splendid; every sense steeped in a voluptuous
entrancement; thought was out of the question, and one only could wonder
at the barbarism that before seemed to represent life, and sorrow for
years lost and wasted in grosser enjoyment. Then came a reaction, at
first slight, but each day stronger; the headache of the debauch,
the doubt of your mistress's fidelity, your friend's truth, your own
enduring good fortune,--all these lie in wait together, and spring out
on you in some gloomy hour, like Malays boarding a vessel at night, and
crowding down from maintop and mizen! There is no withstanding; you must
strike or fly. I took the last alternative, and, leaving my splendid
quarters one morning at daybreak, hastened to Havre. Not a thought of
regret crossed me; so quiet a life seemed to sap my very courage, and
prey upon my vitals; that same night I swung once more in a hammock,
with the rushing water beside my ear, and never again tried those
dissipations that pall from their very excess; for, after all, no
pleasure is lasting which is not dashed with the sense of danger.”
While he was yet speaking, a female figure, closely veiled, passed close
to where they stood, and, without attracting any notice, slipped into
Cashel's hand a slip of paper. Few as the words it contained were, they
seemed to excite his very deepest emotion, and it was with a faltering
voice he asked the captain by what step he could most speedily obtain
his release from the service?
A tiresome statement of official forms was the answer; but Roland's
impatience did not hear it out, as he said,--
“And is there no other way,--by gold, for instance?”
A cold shrug of the shoulders met this sally, and the captain said,--
“To corrupt the officials of the Government is called treason by our
laws, and is punishable by death, just like desertion.” \
“Therefore is desertion the better course, as it involves none but one,”
said Cashel, laughing, as he turned away.