THE SPY
Pichegru threw a rapid and questioning glance at the new-comer; but
sharp and piercing as it was, it failed to tell him to what nationality
he belonged. His appearance was that of a man who has come a long
distance, and has walked much of the way. He wore a fox-skin cap and a
blouse made of goat-skin, secured at the waist by a leather belt; the
sleeves of a striped woollen vest showed through the openings at the
upper part of this blouse, of which the hairy side was turned in; and
his long boots, of which the soles were in a bad state, came up to his
knees.
There was no hint of his nationality in all this. But his fair hair, his
clear blue eye, firm even to fierceness, his flaxen mustache, his
determined chin and broad jaws, convinced Pichegru that he belonged to
one of the northern races.
The young man suffered this examination in a silence which seemed to
defy Pichegru's scrutiny.
"Hungarian or Russian?" asked Pichegru in French.
"Polish," replied the young man, laconically, in the same language.
"An exile then?" asked Pichegru.
"Worse than that!"
"Poor people! So brave and so unfortunate!" and he held out his hand to
the young man.
"Wait," said the latter; "before doing me this honor, you must know--"
"Every Pole is brave," said Pichegru. "Every exile has the right to the
hand-clasp of a patriot."
But the Pole seemed to take a certain pride in refusing to accept this
courtesy until he had proved that he had a right to it. He pulled out a
little leathern bag which he wore upon his breast, as the Neapolitans
wear their amulets, and took a folded paper from it.
"Do you know Kosciusko?" asked the young man, his eyes flashing as he
spoke.
"Who does not know the hero of Dubienka?" exclaimed Pichegru.
"Then read that," said the Pole, handing him the note.
Pichegru took it and read as follows:
I recommend to all men who struggle for independence and the
liberty of their country, this brave man, son of a brave man,
brother of a brave man.
He was with me at Dubienka.
T. KOSCIUSKO.
"You have a fine brevet of bravery there, sir," said Pichegru; "will you
do me the honor to become my aide-de-camp?"
"I should not do you much service, and I should not be avenging myself;
it is vengeance that I seek."
"And against whom--Russians, Austrians or Prussians?"
"Against all three, since they are all oppressing and devouring unhappy
Poland; but I hate the Prussians most."
"Where do you come from?"
"Dantzic. I belong to the old Polish race which, after having lost
Poland in 1308, reconquered it in 1454, and defended it against Etienne
Battori in 1575. From that day Dantzic has always held a Polish party
ready to revolt, and which did revolt at Kosciusko's first call. My
brother, my father and I seized our guns and placed ourselves under his
orders.
"Thus we, my father, my brother and myself, found ourselves among four
thousand men who defended the fort of Dubienka for five days against
sixteen thousand Russians, when we had had only one day to fortify it.
"Some time later Stanislas yielded to Catherine's will. Kosciusko,
unwilling to become the accomplice of the Czarina's lover, sent in his
resignation, and my father, my brother and I returned to Dantzic, where
I resumed my studies.
"One morning we learned that Dantzic had been ceded to the Prussians.
There were among us at least two thousand patriots who protested with
one hand and took up arms with the other; this tearing asunder of our
native land, this dismemberment of our dear Poland, seemed to us a
direct appeal, after moral protestation, to material protestation--the
protestation of blood with which it is necessary to water the nations in
order that they may not die. We went to meet the body of Prussians who
had come to take possession of the city; they were ten thousand in
number, and we were eighteen hundred.
"A thousand of us remained upon the battlefield. In the three days that
followed three hundred died of their wounds. Five hundred remained.
"All were equally guilty, but our adversaries were generous. They
divided us into three classes: the first were to be shot; the second
were to be hanged; the third escaped with their lives after having
received fifty lashes.
"They had divided us according to our strength. Those who were the most
severely wounded were to be shot; those who were slightly wounded were
to be hanged; those who were well and sound were to receive fifty
lashes. Thus they would preserve the memory all their lives of the
chastisement deserved by every ungrateful wretch who refuses to throw
himself into the open arms of Prussia.
"My dying father was shot. My brother, who had a broken thigh, was
hanged. I, who had only a scratch on my shoulder, received fifty lashes.
"At the fortieth I fainted; but the officers were conscientious men,
and, although I did not feel the blows, they completed the number, and
then left me lying upon the place of punishment without paying any
further attention to me. My sentence read that when I had received the
fifty lashes I was free. The punishment had taken place in one of the
courts of the citadel. When I recovered consciousness it was night; I
saw around me a number of inanimate bodies that resembled corpses, but
who were men who, like myself, had probably fainted. I found my
clothing, but, with the exception of my shirt, I was not able to put
them on my bleeding shoulders. I threw them over my arm and endeavored
to locate myself. A light was burning a short distance from me; I
thought it belonged to the guard at the gate and I made my way to it.
The sentinel was at his wicket.
"'Your name?' he asked.
"I told him my name."
He consulted his list.
"'Here,' he said, 'is your passport.'
"I looked at it. It read, 'Good for the frontier.'
"'Then I cannot enter Dantzic?' I asked.
"'Not under pain of death.'
"I thought of my mother, bereaved of her husband and her sons; I uttered
a sigh, committed her to God, and took up my march. I had no money, but
fortunately in a secret fold of my pocketbook I had managed to save the
note which Kosciusko had given me, and which I have shown you.
"I took my way through Custrin, Frankfort and Leipsic. As sailors are
guided by the polar star so I looked to France, that beacon of liberty,
and hastened toward it. Six weeks of hunger, fatigue, miseries, and
humiliations were forgotten when I set foot in the holy land of liberty
yesterday, all save the hope of vengeance. I threw myself upon my knees
and blessed God that I was as strong as the crime of which I had been
made the victim. In all your soldiers I saw brothers, not marching to
the conquest of the world, but to the deliverance of the oppressed. A
flag passed; I sprang toward it, asking permission of the officer to
embrace this sacred emblem, the symbol of universal brotherhood. The
officer hesitated.
"'Ah!' I cried, 'I am a Pole, and proscribed, and I have come nine
hundred miles to join you. This flag is mine also. I have the right to
kiss it, to press it to my heart, and to put my lips to it.'
"And I took it almost by force, and kissed it, saying: 'Be always pure,
brilliant, and glorious, flag of the conquerors of the Bastile, flag of
Valmy, of Jemmapes, and of Bercheim.'
"Oh! general, for a moment I felt no more fatigue; I forgot my shoulders
so cruelly lacerated beneath the lash, my brother suspended to the
gibbet, my father shot. I forgot all, even vengeance.
"To-day I come to you. I am trained in all things pertaining to science;
I speak five languages equally well; I can pass for German, Russian,
English, or French. I can penetrate in any disguise into towns,
fortresses and headquarters; I can give news of everything, for I can
draw plans. No material obstacle can stop me; ten times, when I was a
child, I swam across the Vistula. In short, I am no longer a man, I am a
thing; I call myself no longer Stephan Moinjki, but Vengeance!"
"And do you wish to be a spy?"
"Do you call that man a spy who is fearless, and who by his intelligence
can do the most harm to the enemy?"
"Yes."
"Then I wish to be a spy."
"Do you know that you risk being shot if you are caught?"
"Like my father."
"Or hanged?"
"Like my brother."
"The least that can happen to you is to be whipped. Do you know that?"
With a rapid movement Stephan loosened his coat, drew his arm out of the
sleeve, turned down his shirt, and showed his back covered with blue
welts.
"As I have been," he answered, laughing.
"Remember that I offer you a place in my army as a lieutenant, or as an
interpreter."
"And you, citizen-general, must remember that I, finding myself
unworthy, have refused. In condemning me they have put me outside the
pale of manhood. Well, I will strike them secretly."
"Very well. And now, what do you want?"
"Some money to buy other clothes, and your orders."
Pichegru stretched out his hand and took a folio of assignats and a pair
of scissors from a chair. It was what he received every month for his
expenses at the seat of war. The month was not more than half gone, but
the folio was nearly used up.
He cut three days' pay, amounting to four hundred and fifty francs, from
it and gave them to the spy.
"Buy some clothes with that," he said.
"That is too much: I shall only want peasant's clothes," said the Pole.
"Perhaps to-morrow you will be obliged to buy another disguise."
"Very well. And now your orders?"
"Listen carefully to what I have to say," said Pichegru, laying his hand
on the young man's shoulder.
The young man listened with his eyes fastened upon Pichegru; it seemed
as if he were trying to see as well as to hear the words.
"I am advised," resumed Pichegru, "that the army of the Moselle,
commanded by Hoche, is about to join mine. This union accomplished, we
shall attack Woerth, Froeschwiller and Reichsoffen. Well, I must know
the number of men and cannon that defend these places as well as the
best points of attack. You will be aided by the hatred that our peasants
and the Alsatian bourgeois bear the Prussians."
"Shall I bring you the information here? Will you wait for it, or will
you start to meet the army of the Moselle?"
"In three or four days you will probably hear firing in the direction of
Marschwilier, Dawendorff, or Uberack; you may join me wherever I am."
Just then the door opened and a young man, about twenty-five or six,
wearing a colonel's uniform, entered.
From his light hair and mustache, and ruddy complexion, it was plain to
be seen that he was one of the many Irishmen who had taken service in
France now that she was likely to go to war with England.
"Ah! is it you, my dear Macdonald," said Pichegru, making a sign to the
young man, "I was just going to send for you; here is one of your Scotch
or English countrymen."
"Neither the English nor the Scotch are my countrymen, general," said
Macdonald. "I am Irish."
"I beg your pardon, colonel," said Pichegru, laughing, "I did not mean
to insult you, I only meant that he speaks nothing but English, and, as
I do not know it very well, I want to know what he is saying."
"Nothing is easier," replied Macdonald. Then, addressing the young man,
he put several questions to him, to which the other replied without an
instant's hesitation.
"Has he told you what he wants?" asked Pichegru.
"Yes," replied Macdonald; "he asks for a place in the commissary
department."
"Then," Pichegru said to the Pole, "that is all I wanted to know. Do
what you have been told, and do not forget anything. If you will be good
enough to translate what I have said to him, Macdonald, you will be
doing me a great service."
Macdonald repeated, word for word, in English, what the general had
said. The pretended Englishman bowed and went out.
"Well," asked Pichegru, "how does he speak English?"
"Admirably," replied Macdonald; "he has a slight accent which makes me
think that he comes rather from the provinces than from London or
Dublin. Only one would have to be English or Irish to detect it."
"That is all I wanted to know," said Pichegru, with a laugh. And he
returned to the large room, followed by Macdonald.