THE FORAGING CAP
Charles looked at the young nobleman with an astonishment that amounted
almost to stupefaction. What! Was this young officer, so handsome, so
calm, so youthful, about to die? Then there were men who met death
smilingly!
He had never seen but one man who thought he was about to die, and that
was Schneider when Saint-Just had ordered him to be fastened under the
guillotine. Schneider had been hideous with terror, his legs bent under
him, and they had been obliged to carry him up the scaffold steps.
The Comte de Sainte-Hermine, on the contrary, when he was about to die,
had gathered all his forces together for the supreme moment. He walked
with a light step and a smile on his lips.
Charles drew near him. "Is there no way of saving you?" he asked in a
low tone.
"Frankly, I know of none; if I did I should try it."
"But--excuse me; I was far from expecting--"
"To travel in such bad company?"
"I want to ask you--" and the boy hesitated.
"What?"
"If I can serve you in any way?" continued Charles, lowering his voice
still more.
"You can certainly be of some use to me; since I have seen you I have
been revolving a scheme."
"Tell me what it is."
"It may be a little dangerous, and it might frighten you."
"I will risk anything to do you a service. I was in Strasbourg for three
or four days, and during that time I saw so many things that nothing can
frighten me now."
"I should like to send a message to my brother."
"I will deliver it."
"But it is a letter."
"I will deliver it."
"Are you not afraid of the risk you run?"
"I have already told you that nothing can frighten me now."
"I suppose I might give it to the captain; he would probably forward it
to its destination."
"With the captain it is only probable, while with me it is certain."
"Then listen to me."
"I am listening."
"The letter is sewn inside my foraging cap."
"Good."
"You must ask the captain to let you be present at my execution."
"I?"
"Don't be afraid; it is a curious spectacle. Many people go to see
executions just for the fun of it."
"I should never have the courage."
"Pooh! It is soon over."
"Oh! never, never!"
"We will say no more about it," said the prisoner; and he began to
whistle, "Vive Henri IV."
Charles's heart seemed to turn within him, but his resolution was taken.
He approached the prisoner again. "Excuse me," he said, "I will do
whatever you ask."
"What a good boy you are! Thanks."
"Only--"
"Well?"
"You must ask the colonel to let me be present. I should never forgive
myself if any one thought that I wanted to--"
"Very good; I will ask him. As a fellow-countryman that will be quite
natural. Besides, the soldiers do not put on so many airs as the
civilians; they have a stern duty to fulfil, and they make it as easy as
possible. Where were we?"
"You were saying that I must be present at your execution."
"Yes, that was it. I shall ask to be allowed to send something to my
brother that belongs to me--my foraging cap, for example; that is done
every day. Besides, you see, a foraging cap would never be suspected."
"No."
"Just as they are about to fire I will toss it aside. Do not be in too
much of a hurry to pick it up--they might suspect something. But when I
am dead--"
"Oh!" exclaimed Charles, with a shiver.
"Who has a drop of brandy to give my little compatriot? He is cold."
"Come here, my pretty boy," said the captain, offering the boy a flask.
Charles took a swallow of brandy; not that he was cold, but because he
did not wish to betray his feelings.
"Thanks, captain," he said.
"At your service, boy; at your service. A mouthful, citizen
Sainte-Hermine?"
"A thousand thanks, captain; I never drink it."
Charles returned to the prisoner's side.
"Only," continued the latter, "when I am dead, pick it up without
seeming to attach more importance to it than it deserves. But you will
remember, will you not, that my last wish--and the last wishes of a
dying man are sacred--that my last wish is that the letter in it be
given to my brother. If the cap bothers you, take out the letter and
throw the cap into the first ditch you come to; but the letter--you will
not lose the letter?"
"No."
"You will not mislay it?"
"No, no; do not worry."
"And you will give it to my brother yourself?"
"Yes, myself."
"Try to. Then you must tell him how I died, and he will say: 'I had a
brave brother; when my turn comes I will die like him'; and, if his turn
comes, he will die like me."
They had reached a point where two roads branched off; the main road led
to the city of Auenheim itself, and the crossroad to the citadel.
"Citizen," said the captain, "if you are going, as you said, to General
Pichegru's headquarters, that is your road. A good journey to you, and
try to become a good soldier; you will be in a fine school."
Charles tried to speak, but his lips refused to form the words. He
looked entreatingly at the prisoner.
"Captain," said the latter, "will you grant me a favor?"
"If it is in my power to do so."
"It only depends upon you."
"What is it?"
"Well, it may be a weakness, but it will remain between ourselves, will
it not? When I die I should like to embrace a compatriot. We are both
children of the Jura, this young boy and I; our families live in
Besançon, and are on a friendly footing. Some day he will go home, and
tell how he met me by chance, how he followed me up to the last moment,
and saw me die."
The captain looked inquiringly at the boy. He was weeping.
"Why," he said, "if it can give you both any pleasure--"
"I do not suppose that it will give him much pleasure, but it will
please me."
"I see no objection, and, since you, the person most interested, ask
it--"
"It is granted," said the prisoner.
"Granted," replied the captain.
The troop, which had halted for a moment at the crossroads, now resumed
its march. At the top of the little hill they saw the citadel of
Auenheim. It was the goal of their sad journey. Charles drew closer to
the prisoner.
"You see," said the latter, "so far all goes beautifully."
They went up the slope, which was very steep, although it wound around
the hill. At the gate they made themselves known, and were then
swallowed up in the depths of the fortress. The escort, the prisoner and
Charles were left in the court while the captain in charge of the squad
went to make his report to the commanding officer. In the meantime,
Charles and the count improved their acquaintance, Charles in his turn
giving information about his family. The captain reappeared on the
doorstep in about ten minutes.
"Are you ready, citizen?" he asked the prisoner.
"Whenever you are," replied the latter.
"Have you anything to say?"
"No; but I have a few favors to ask."
"As I told you, anything in my power I will grant."
"Thank you, captain."
The captain came closer to the count. "We may serve under different
flags," said he, "but we are still Frenchmen, and brave men recognize
each other at a glance. Speak then; what do you want?"
"First, I want you to take off these cords which make me look like a
galley-slave."
"You are right," said the captain. "Unbind the prisoner."
Two men stepped forward; but Charles had already darted toward the count
and freed his hands.
"Ah!" exclaimed the count, stretching out his arms, and shaking himself
beneath his mantle, "how good it feels to be free."
"And now?" asked the captain.
"I want to give the word of command."
"You shall give it. And then?"
"I should like to send some souvenir to my family."
"You know that we are forbidden to take any letters from political
prisoners who are condemned to death; but anything else, yes."
"I do not wish to give you any trouble on that score. Here is my
compatriot Charles, who, as you have already promised, is to accompany
me to the place of execution; he will undertake to deliver something to
my family; let it be, not a letter, but an article that has belonged to
me--my old foraging cap, for instance."
The count named his cap in the same careless tone he would have employed
in speaking of any other article of his apparel, and the captain did not
hesitate to grant his request.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"Faith, yes," answered the count, "and it is time. My feet are growing
cold, and there is nothing in the world I dislike so much as cold feet.
Come, captain; for you are coming with us, I presume."
"It is my duty."
The count bowed, smilingly pressed little Charles's hand, and looked
inquiringly at the captain to know what direction to take.
"This way," said the captain, placing himself at the head of the squad.
They followed him, passing through a postern gate into a second court,
upon the ramparts of which sentinels were pacing back and forth. At the
end was a tall wall riddled with balls at about the height of a man's
head.
"Ah! there it is," said the prisoner; and he went toward the wall of his
own accord. Four steps from it he stopped.
"Here we are," said the captain. "Clerk, read the sentence to the
condemned man."
After the reading the count bowed his head, as if to acknowledge its
justice. Then he said: "I beg your pardon, captain; I have a few words
to say by myself."
The captain and the soldiers drew aside. The count put the elbow of his
right arm in his left hand, leaned his forehead upon his right hand,
shut his eyes, and remained motionless, his lips moving silently. He was
praying.
There is something holy about a man who is about to die, and who is
praying, which even the most unbelieving respect. Not a word, not a
smile, not a jest, disturbed the count's last communion with God. When
he raised his head his face wore a smile; he embraced his young
compatriot, and, like Charles I., his last injunction was: "Remember!"
Charles bowed his head, weeping.
Then the count said in a firm voice: "Attention!"
The soldiers fell into two ranks at ten paces from him, the captain and
Charles placing themselves at either side. The condemned man, as if he
did not wish to give the order to fire while his head was still covered,
took off his foraging cap and tossed it carelessly aside. It fell at
Charles's feet.
"Are you ready?" asked the count.
"Yes," replied the soldiers.
"Present arms! Ready! Fire!--Long live the k--"
He had not time to finish; a report was heard; seven bullets had pierced
his breast; he fell face down upon the ground. Charles picked up the
foraging cap, put it inside his vest, and buttoned the latter over it;
and, as he put it in his vest, he made sure that the letter was there.
A quarter of an hour later he entered citizen-general Pichegru's
cabinet.