said but little all night; his mind was continually wandering to the
recent fray, and the remembrance that he had for the first time slain a
fellow-being,--a reflection which troubled him very little, truly, a few
weeks afterwards, when he had become used to that sort of work. "Of
yourself rather, Stuart. Her eyes are ever on you, and--"
"Hush! she hears us," replied the other hurriedly, his cheek reddening,
yet more with mental shame than anger. "O Alice Lisle!" thought he,
"this Spaniard, beautiful as she is, cannot surely be teaching me to
forget you so soon. Her eyes are blacker than those of Alice,
certainly, but they are less soft and feminine,--less gentle in
expression; yet--" Here he was interrupted by the loud and sonorous
voice of Campbell, who, at the request of Catalina, was commencing a
song.
Ronald was rapidly becoming so confused with the effects of the wine he
had taken, that he knew not whether it was Alice Lisle or Donna Catalina
who sat beside him; but having a vague idea that it was some beautiful
female, before the major's song was ended he was making downright love,
which the lady took in very good humour.
Campbell's song, the
"Piobracht au Donuil-dhu,"
although it roused the hearts of his countrymen by its martial and
forcible language, was listened to with a grave and pleasant smile by
Don Alvaro, who of course comprehended not one word of the ditty, which
in his ears sounded as a most barbarous jargon, and might have been a
Moorish battle song for aught that he knew to the contrary.
The retiring of Donna Catalina did not put an end to the carousal; and,
as they had to leave Merida an hour before day-break, they betook
themselves to rest, (after every jug of wine had been discussed,) on the
chairs, as it was useless to go to bed for an hour or two only. The
short time they passed in slumber flew quickly, and they were soon
roused by the din of the flying-artillery guns, as they swept over the
causewayed streets, driven at a hard trot towards the bridge of Merida.
"_Caramba_! Rouse, senors," cried Alvaro, who was the first to awake.
"_Carajo_! Ay, there go the field-pieces: old Rowland's in his saddle
already," muttered the major, scrambling up from the floor on which he
had rolled in the night time, and placing his large bonnet on the wrong
way, permitting the long feathers to stream down his back. "Rouse,
gentlemen! Up and be doing, sirs, or we shall be missed from our posts.
Old Mahoud take the rule for marching before day-break! Sir Ralph never
made us do so in Egypt, and we gained laurels there, gentlemen--I say we
did. This infernal bonnet! 'tis always falling off."
"I wish to Heaven I could sleep an hour longer!" said Ronald. "I have
scarcely had three hours' sleep this week past."
"Our brigade never sleep, gentlemen," cried Campbell, who was still a
little inebriated, "never! We march all night, and fight all day: we
used to reverse the matter in Egypt. But what have we here? Peter
Forbes--or what is your name, what's the matter? Are Dombrouski's
dragoons among ye?"
"_Ave Maria! O Dios mio! O Senor Don Alvaro!_" cried Sargento Pedro
Gomez, appearing at the entrance of the room with a lamp in his hand;
"we have had the devil among us last night!"
"How so, fellow? What has happened?"
"The bravo has escaped--"
"How! Diavolo, escaped?"
"Ay, noble senor, and carried off the carbine of poor Diego de la Zarza,
whom we found lying within the chamber with his throat cut from ear to
ear."
The cavalier ground his teeth with absolute fury, while his olive cheek
grew black with rising passion.
"_Santos! Santissimus!_" cried he; "would to San Juan, and all the
calendar, I had hanged him last night! My brave Diego--but he must have
slept; if so, he deserves his fate. Well, there is no help for this
matter; we will give Narvaez Cifuentes a short prayer and a long stab
the next time we meet, and that without delay. But we must be off; the
cavalry advance-guard, and part of the artillery, have already passed.
Let the _trompetero_ sound 'to horse;' and hasten, Pedro, and get the
troop into their saddles. Though we belong to the division of Murillo,
we will cross the bridge with you to-day, senors, and strike a blow for
honour. _Viva Eapana y buena Esperanza_! 'Tis a better war-shout than
the _Vive l'Empereur_ of the followers of the perfidious Buonaparte."
"There are the drums of our brigade," said Ronald Stuart; "and should we
be missed by Fassifern, the excellency of Don Alvaro's purple Malaga and
sherry, or even the smiles of Donna Catalina herself, would form but a
poor excuse for lingering. Hark! the _generale_."
"You improve in the art of gallantry," observed Macdonald; "you could
not have turned such fine speeches the morning we halted in the Black
Horse-square, at Lisbon. But I regret that we must march without
bidding adieu to our fair _patrona_."
"Forward, cavaliers; Catalina will excuse our departing without bidding
her farewell. Down the stair-case to the left, senors," cried Alvaro.
"Pedro Gomez, knave,--light the way!" and they pressed forward into the
street, feeling the chill air of the morning blow strangely on their
faces, while their heads swam with the fumes of the wine taken so
lately.
"It will be long ere I forget the night we spent in Merida," said
Macdonald.
"And long ere I do so, truly," replied Stuart, casting his eyes vacantly
over the dark windows of the mansion of Villa Franca.
"Ah!--Donna Catalina; are you looking for her?"
"Such strange scenes of fray and other matters! Had such a row occurred
at home, all Britain would have rung with it, from Dover to Cape Wrath;
but here it is as nothing."
"Hark! what is that, Stuart?"
"A cry,--by Heaven, a most appalling one!" A loud shriek arose from
amid the darkness in which the Plaza was involved. They hastened to
that part of the square from whence it appeared to issue, and found that
the conflict in which they had borne so conspicuous a part was not the
only outrage committed that night in Merida. They discovered a young
Portuguese lad, the private servant of Lieutenant-colonel Macdonald of
the Gordon Highlanders, lying dead under the piazzas, stabbed to the
heart with a long stiletto or knife, and the assassin was never
discovered.
For some hours the dark streets of the city rang to the measured tramp
of marching soldiers, the clatter of accoutrements, the clang of hoofs,
and the rumble of heavy wheels, as artillery, cavalry, and infantry
moved rapidly forward; but by sunrise the whole division had crossed the
bridge, and on the opposite side of the river pursued their route
towards Almendralejo.
"Colonel Cameron!" cried old W----, the brigade-major, cantering up to
the head of the column; "Major-general Howard requests that you will
increase your front. It is Sir Rowland's order."
"Form sub-divisions!" cried Fassifern, in the loud and manly tone of
authority which so well became him. "Rear sections, left
oblique--double quick!" The order was obeyed along the whole column by
each regiment in succession. Their fine brass bands filled the air with
martial music, causing every heart to vibrate to the sharp sound of the
soul-stirring trumpet, the cymbals, and trombone. The horses shook
their manes,--their riders sat more erect; the waving colours were flung
forward on the breeze above the steel ridges of glittering bayonets, and
the brave hearts of those who marched beneath them grew light and
animated at the prospect of a brush with the enemy. Their starving
condition, their faded uniform, the discomfort of the last night's
bivouac, were forgotten,--all was military, gay and exciting to the
utmost, filling every bosom with the pride of the profession and the
fervent "glow of chivalry." Sir Rowland Hill, with his staff, viewed
from a little eminence the whole length of the column of that division
of the army under his command, as they passed, and a pleasing smile
animated the benevolent features of the bluff old general, when he
beheld the willingness with which the foot-sore and almost shoe-less
soldiers pressed forward, although they had endured all that could
render troops, less persevering and disciplined, less hardy and less
brave, mutinous.
Toilsome forced marches--shelterless bivouacs, starvation, receiving no
provisions sometimes for three consecutive days,--no clothing, and
almost ever in arrears of pay--on one occasion for six months,--nothing
but the hope of a change, and the redoubtable spirit which animated
them, could have supported the British soldiers under the accumulation
of miseries suffered by them in the Peninsula,--miseries which were
lessened to the French troops, by their living at free quarters wherever
they went.
These things, however, were forgotten for the present time, and with
others Ronald Stuart felt all the ardour which the display before him
and the fineness of the morning were calculated to inspire. The bright
sun shone from an unclouded sky, filling the clear blue vault with
warmth; the birds were chirping and hopping merrily among the dewy
branches of the olive thickets and dark laurel bushes overhanging the
broad path, the deep dingles on each side of which echoed to the notes
of the sounding music.
Ronald looked back to the flat-roofed mansions and Roman ruins of
Merida, on the grey walls of which, casting bold shadows, streamed the
full splendour of the morning sun. The cavalry rearguard were slowly
crossing the ancient bridge, and with the red coats came the brown
uniform of Spain: it was the troop of Don Alvaro advancing, with their
polished helmets and tall lances flashing in the sun, and finding a
sparkling reflection in the deep blue current of the Guadiana below.
Ronald carried for the first time the regimental colour, which bore
evident marks of service, being pierced in many places by musket-shot.
It was a laborious affair to sustain, especially during a breeze, being
large, and of rich yellow silk, fringed round with bullion. The
sphinx,--the badge of Egypt, (the pride of the major's heart,)
surrounded by a wreath of the brave old thistle, and the honourable
mottoes '_Egmont-op-Zee_,' '_Mandora_,' and '_Bergen-op-Zoom_,'[*] all
sewn, as usual, by fair hands, and done in massive gold embroidery,
appeared in the centre of the standard, which the Duchess of Gordon had
presented to the clan-regiment of her son.
[*] Such, with many additions, are still the badges of the Gordon
Highlanders. For the information of unmilitary readers I may state,
that every corps has two colours,--a king's and regimental; the first
carried by the senior, and the latter by the junior ensign.
"Stuart, I see you are casting longing looks back to Merida," said
Alister in his usual jesting manner, as he marched by Ronald's side with
the gaudy king's colour sloped on his shoulder. "There is some
attraction in our rear, I perceive; you are ever looking that way."
"Ay, yonder comes Don Alvaro and his troop of lances; how gallant they
appear! But they are almost hidden in the dust raised by the rear of
the column."
"Look above the colours of the 71st, and you will see the roof which
contains the fair Catalina; it was for that you were searching so
narrowly. I can read your thoughts, you see, without being a conjuror.
Stuart, my boy, you are very green in these matters, otherwise you would
not blush as scarlet as your coat, which, by the by, is rapidly becoming
purple."
"What stuff you talk, Macdonald! What is Catalina to me?"
"Pshaw! now you need not bristle up so fiercely. Were you not making
downright love to her last night? And the don himself would have seen
it, but had drunk too much Malaga."
"Impossible, Alister! You must dream, or this is some of your usual
nonsense. I have no recollection of speaking to Donna Catalina
otherwise than I would have done to any lady,--and Campbell heard me."
"The major had over much sherry under his belt, and made too much noise
about Egypt,--the pyramids,--Pompey's pillar,--the battle of Alexandria,
and Heaven knows all what, to hear any one speaking but himself. We
spent the night in glorious style, however; but the taste of that
horrible garlic----Heavens above! what is this?"
Alister's sudden exclamation was not given without sufficient reason.
A carbine flashed from among the dark evergreens which overhung the
road, and Ronald Stuart, staggering backwards, fell prostrate and
bleeding at the feet of his comrades, from whom burst a wild shout of
rage and surprise; but the strictness of British discipline prevented
any man from moving in search of the assassin.
"Hell's fury!" cried Colonel Cameron, spurring his horse to the spot,
while his eyes shot fire. "Search the bushes; forward, men! Do not
fire, in case of alarming the rear of the column; but fix
bayonets,--slay, hew, and cut to pieces whoever you find."
With mingled curses and shouts a hundred Highlanders dashed through the
thicket; but their heavy knapsacks and the tall plumes of their bonnets
impeded their movements in piercing the twisted and tangled branches of
the thickly-leaved laurels. They searched the grove through and
through, beating the bushes in every direction; but no trace of the
assassin was found, save a broad-brimmed _sombrero_ bearing the figure
of the Virgin stamped in pewter, fastened to the band encircling it,
which Alister Macdonald found near a gigantic laurel bush, in the midst
of the umbrageous branches of which its owner lurked unseen.
"It is the hat of Cifuentes,--the vagabond of our last night's
adventure," said Alister, hewing a passage through the bushes with his
sword, and regaining the regiment.
"I would you had brought his head rather. O that it was within the
reach of my trusty stick! I would scorn to wet Andrea with his base
blood." A frown of rage contracted the broad brow of Campbell while he
spoke, holding in one hand a steel Highland pistol, which he had drawn
from his holsters for the purpose of executing dire vengeance had
opportunity offered.
"By all the powers above!" cried Alister, with fierce and stern energy,
"if ever this accursed Spaniard crosses my path, I will make his head
fly from his shoulders as I would a thistle from its stalk! nor shall
all the corregidors and alcaldes in Spain prevent me. But how is
Stuart? Poor fellow! he looks very pale. Has he lost much blood?"
Ronald, supported on the arm of Evan Iverach, stood erect within a
circle formed by the officers who crowded round, while one of the
regimental surgeons examined his left arm, which had been wounded by the
shot.
"O gude sake! be gentle wi' him, doctor!" said honest Evan in great
anguish, as he observed Ronald to wince under the hands of the medical
officer; "be as gentle wi' him as possible. You doctor folk are unco
rough ever and aye: dinna forget that he is your namesake, and kinsman
forbye, though ye canna find out the exact degree."
"I hope, Doctor Stuart, the wound is not a very bad one?" said Cameron,
dismounting from his horse and approaching the circle. "I augur ill
from the expression of concern which your countenance wears."
"The shot has passed completely through, colonel, breaking the bone in
its passage; but as the fracture is not compound, it will soon join
after setting. I hope that none of the red coat, or any other foreign
body, is lodged in the wound."
"Oh, if it should be a poisoned ball!" groaned poor Evan in great misery
at the idea, while Doctor Stuart removed the sleeve of the coat, and
Ronald endeavoured to conceal the miniature of Alice Lisle, which was
nearly revealed by the disarrangement of his uniform. "Oh, if it should
be a poisoned ball!" he repeated.
"Some of our very best chields have been slain wi' them before
now,--especially at the battle of Arroya-del-Molino," observed his
comrade Angus Mackie, with a solemn shake of his head.
"Oh, that I had only been at his side! It micht have hit me in his
stead!"
"Silence, men! You chatter nonsense," said Cameron sternly. "And what
think you now, doctor?"
"That as Mr. Stuart is young, and of a full habit, I must bleed him
immediately."
"Stuff! My good fellow, he has lost blood enough already."
"_I_ am the best judge of that, Colonel Cameron," replied Esculapius
haughtily; "delay is fraught with danger. Holloa, there! where's the
hospital attendant? Serjeant Maconush, undo the service-case and bring
me the pasteboard splints, the twelve-tailed bandage, and other et
caeteras: I will set the bone."
"It is impossible, Doctor Stuart," interposed Cameron. "Your intentions
are all very good; but your clansman must return to Merida, where I
sincerely hope he will be properly attended to. We have no time to await
your operations just now, for which I am truly sorry, as Ensign Stuart
will be well aware."
"Do not mind me, colonel," replied Ronald, whose teeth were clenched
with the agony he endured. "I will return, as you say, and shall
doubtless find a medical attendant. I hear the rear regiments are
clamorous at this stoppage in their front, and yonder is Sir Rowland
himself, advancing to discover the cause." He spoke with difficulty,
and at intervals; the new and painful sensation of a broken limb,
together with rage swelling his heart at the manner in which he had
received it, made his utterance low and indistinct. Among the group
around him he recognised Don Alvaro, who had galloped from the rear to
discover the meaning of the confusion.
"_Senor coronel_," said he to Cameron, raising his hand to the peak of
his helmet, "let him be taken to my house in Merida, where he will be
properly attended to. Pedro Gomez,"--turning to his orderly
serjeant,--"dismount. Give this cavalier your horse, and attend him
yourself to my residence in the Calle de Guadiana, and desire Donna
Catalina to have his wound looked after. You will remain with him until
it is healed."
Pedro sprung lightly from his saddle, into which Ronald was with some
difficulty installed.
"I thank you, senor," said Cameron, touching his bonnet, "and am glad
this disagreeable matter is so satisfactorily arranged; the alcalde
might have ordered him but an indifferent billet. Good bye, my dear
fellow, Stuart; I trust we shall see you soon again, and with a whole
skin. Mr. Grant, take the colours. Gentlemen, fall in; get into your
places, men--into your ranks. Forward!" He delivered his orders with
firm rapidity, and being a strict martinet who was not to be trifled
with, they were instantly obeyed, and the commotion was hushed. The
troops were too much accustomed to wounds and slaughter to care about
the hurt received by Ronald, but it was the sudden and concealed shot
which had raised their surprise and indignation.
Evan Iverach alone delayed executing the orders of Cameron, and
entreated that he might be permitted to attend his wounded master to the
rear.
"My good fellow, it cannot be," replied the colonel, pleased with the
genuine concern manifested by Ronald's honest follower; "the enemy are
before us, and I cannot spare a man. Nay, now, you need not entreat;
fall into your place at once, sir."
"Oh! if you please, sir, dinna speak sae sternly. Did ye but ken--"
"Into your place this instant, sir! or I will have you stripped of your
accoutrements, and sent prisoner to the quarter-guard," exclaimed
Cameron sternly, his eyes beginning to sparkle. To say more was
useless, and shouldering his musquet with a heavy heart, Evan took his
place in the ranks, and moved forward with the rest; but he cast many an
anxious look to the rear, watching the retiring figure of Ronald as he
sat on the troop-horse, which was led by Pedro Gomez towards the bridge
of Merida.
*CHAPTER X.*
*FLIRTATION.*
"Oh! the sunny peaches glow,
And the grapes in clusters blush;
And the cooling silver streams
From their sylvan fountains rush.
There is music in the grove,
And there's fragrance on the gale;
But there's nought so dear to me,
As my own Highland vale."
_Vedder's Poems._
Ronald experienced most intense pain, together with a cold, benumbed
feeling in the fractured limb; but it was as nothing in comparison to
the mental torture which he endured, or the indignant and fierce
thoughts that animated his heart. He entertained a deep and
concentrated hatred of the wretch who, aiming thus maliciously and
savagely at his life, had in so daring a manner inflicted a wound by
which he might ultimately lose his arm, and which, for the present,
disabled him from accompanying his comrades, who were rapidly following
up the retreating foe, and eager to engage.
As his regiment belonged to the first brigade of the division, it
consequently marched in front, or near the head of the column, and in
his return to Merida he had to pass nearly 16,000 men; and the
bitterness of his feelings was increased at the idea that every man
there would probably share the honour of an engagement, of which his
mutilated state forbade him to be a participator. Solemn and deep were
the inward vows he took, to seek dire vengeance for this morning's work
on Narvaez Cifuentes, if ever he again confronted him; and his only fear
was, that he might never meet with him more.
From the bridge of Merida he cast a farewell look after his comrades,
but nought could he see, save a long and dense cloud of dust, through
which the glitter of polished steel and the waving fold of a standard
appeared at times, as the extended length of the marching column wound
its way up the gentle eminence, above which appeared the top of the
spire of Almendralejo, several leagues distant.
By Pedro Gomez he was conducted to the stately mansion of Don Alvaro,
and delivered over to the tender care of Donna Catalina, whose softest
sympathies were awakened when the young officer was brought back to her
scarcely able to speak, and his gay uniform covered with blood, for he
had lost a great quantity, owing to the hasty manner in which his
namesake the surgeon had bound up the wound. Add to this, that he was a
handsome youth,--a soldier who had come to fight for Spain, and had but
yesternight rescued her brother from death: the young lady's interest,
gratitude, and pity were all enlisted in his favour. Her large dark eyes
sparkled with mingled sorrow and pleasure when she beheld him,--sorrow
at the pain he suffered, and pleasure at the happiness of being his
nurse and enjoying his society in a mansion of which she was absolute
mistress, and where there was no old maiden aunt or duenna to be a spy
upon her, or overruler of her movements; and as for the scandal of
Merida, or quizzing of her female companions, she was resolved not to
care a straw,--she was above the reach of either. Her uncle, the Prior
of San Juan, resided in the mansion, but the worthy old padre was so
enlarged in circumference by ease and good living, and so crippled by
the gout, that he never moved further than from his bed to the
well-bolstered chair in which he sat all day, and from the chair back to
bed again, and no one ever entered his room save old Dame Agnes,
(already mentioned,) who alone seemed to possess the power of pleasing
him; consequently he was never seen by the other inhabitants of the
house, any more than if he did not exist.
We will pass over the account of the bone-setting by the Padre
Mendizabal, the famous medical practitioner in Merida, who nearly drove
Ronald mad by an oration on different sorts of fractures, simple and
compound, and the different treatment requisite for the cure of various
gun-shot wounds, before his arm was splinted and bandaged up. Weak and
exhausted from the loss of blood, and his head buzzing with Mendizabal's
discourse, right glad was Ronald when he found himself in a comfortable
and splendid couch,--Catalina's own, which she had resigned for his use
as the best in the house,--with its curtains drawn round for the night;
and he forgot, in a dreamy and uneasy slumber, the exciting passages of
the last few days, the danger of his wound, and the sunny eyes of the
donna.
The tolling bells of a neighbouring steeple awakened him early next
morning, and brought his mind back to the world, and a long chain of
disagreeable thoughts.