decked in greens was putting strength into my blood and spirits as it
disappeared, my jaws worked to a little tune of my own composing, and I
cared little for the future--the present was good and given to enjoy!
But soon I was to be on a very different tack, for with a clatter and
clanking I recognized the approach of the people I most dreaded to
meet--the men who fight his Majesty's wars and eat his victuals. Five
soldiers entered from outside. They were petty officers, with stripes on
their arms, bright red coats with puffs at their shoulders, strings of
bright buttons, pipe-clayed cross-belts, and black gaiters.
They may have been handsome to look at, but to me they were five living
horrors. With a chill feeling coming over my chest and shoulders, I
pretended closer attention to my meal. I knew they were looking at me,
but they entered the next compartment and called for ale and spirits.
When the landlord came I overheard the conversation.
"I don't know who the young man is," said the host of the inn, as if in
reply to a question. "He came off the coach, I take it."
"He's an officer," observed another.
"You're wrong," said a third. "Where are his shoulder-knots?"
"I observed him close," put in the second speaker, "and, ecod! it
strikes me he is part officer and part private. It's the uniform of the
Somersetshire Foot-guard. I know it."
I was almost choking in my efforts to bolt a great bit of mutton, but
from the tail of my eye I saw that two heads were thrust about the
corner, and they were piping me off. So I turned my back and looked out
of the window. There came a laugh in a minute, and some whispering in
which I caught the words "curling-tongs and the barber," probably in
allusion to my great need of both.
* * * * *
Now I am honestly very sorry that I never paid the landlord for that
good meal of his, but I acted on an impulse that more than like saved me
from total discomforture. I was taken aback fore and aft, completely
staggered with the idea that their curiosity would pass bounds, and they
would begin to sift me. The window was wide open, and the sward on the
outside came to within two feet of the sill. Making no noise, I crawled
out of it headforemost, and walking quickly across the court-yard, I
dodged behind a row of stables, and crept along beneath a line of hedge;
and this time I did not take the big hat with me, but left it mounting
guard over the remains of my meal.
Now I really should like to have heard what the redcoats said, and I
fear that the landlord could not have been complimentary.
The hedge that I was following ran up to a high wall, on the other side
of which was evidently one of the parks of a nobleman or an aristocrat.
By dint of scratching and hauling and sheer strength, I struggled over
the top and came down on a level stretch of lawn, dotted about with
handsome beech-trees, and farther on edged by a noble line of oaks. No
one was in sight, and driven by a nameless dread, I started running. A
great pheasant scurried across my path and tore up into the air with a
whir, making me shy to one side, like a runaway horse. I kept up my
speed but a few hundred yards, however, when the idea came to me that
this would never do at all. So I threw myself down at the foot of a tree
and tried to compose my ideas.
Off to the right, beyond a low hedge covered with wall-flowers, was a
field of springing corn (wheat we call it in our country), and lording
it over this green domain, with its arms outstretched, was a ragged
scarecrow. I think my next move was something that proves me far from
imbecile. Leaping the hedge, I tore off my bright red coat and white
breeches (the cloak, I had forgotten to say, I had left at the hedge
early in the morning), and then, with mighty little on, I crawled,
Indian fashion, towards the silent guardian of the fields.
Oh, they were very ragged indeed were his majesty's habiliments, but
there were enough of them to cover me, even if I did show bare at the
knees and elbows, and hurriedly I hung them on, and taking the flapping
hat from off the straw-stuffed head, I was the scarecrow come to life! I
had hidden the uniform under some handfuls of leaves and grass; and now
to get out of the park and reach the road, where, by my appearance, I
rightfully belonged.
The wall on the inside was so high and so well built that I could not
reach the top, but as I went along I came to a little gate that unlocked
by thrusting back a bolt. I opened it, and found myself in the
kitchen-garden of a neat white cottage. Disdaining to make reply to the
hail of a buxom young woman who thrust her head out of the window, and
who inquired my business in a peremptory tone, I hobbled out into the
road.
I did not stop at the inn this time, but slid past it on the opposite
side, and five minutes' walk brought me nearer to the heart of the town.
Passing a number of people, who gave me a wide berth, and keeping
straight ahead, I came to a square, or better, the meeting-place of four
thoroughfares crossing at right angles.
Not far away rose the great square tower that I had noticed early in the
morning. It was so high and so massive that I walked toward it to obtain
a better view, and stopped in astonishment before one of the greatest
cathedrals in England.
There was a service of some kind going on, and the sound of a great
organ wafted out on the air. I stood there listening for some moments,
leaning against the iron railing. As the door was open, I was tempted to
go in and pass the gates, but here I halted in fear. A slight tall man,
with his white hair trimmed in a bygone fashion, and a black coat
buttoned up to his white stock, was walking up a side path; he raised
his eyes from the ground, and bending forward, stood there in an
expectant attitude looking at me. Whatever he took me for I do not know.
"Repent, son, and return," he said, in a soothing tone. I had feared
that he was going to upbraid me for my presence, but his next movement
deprived me of that idea entirely. "Here, take this," he said; "and God
bless you and direct you."
As he spoke he extended his hand, with a piece of silver in it, toward
me. A sense of pride in that, so far in my life, I had asked alms of no
one almost tempted me to refuse it, but fearing that he might put me to
questions, I took it, mumbled some thanks, and hurried out into the
sunshine.
I am sure that if he had been an American I should never have escaped
without telling a story of some sort, but the English are of a less
curious temper than we are, and if they interfere in other people's
business on the outside world, they have a talent for minding their own
at home, and to this I testify readily.
My clothes were so disreputable that I determined to spend part of the
shilling in procuring the means of mending them. So I entered a little
shop down the street, and purchased thread and needles. With these in my
pocket, I set out immediately looking for a place to hide whilst at
work.
Taking the wide road that led to the north, I followed it, and passing
by a common on which some lads were playing cricket, I came to an inn,
much larger than the one I had stopped at in the morning, surrounded by
a court-yard with sheds and stables. A number of large carts and vans
were resting here, and crawling over the tail-board of one that had a
great canvas top, I took off my clothes and began my tailoring.
When it was finished I was in less danger of coming to pieces, and
despite what I had eaten, my stomach told me it was past the midday-meal
hour.
Now where I was to go I did not have the least idea, and my heart went
down like a lead.
But, _en avant!_ There was no sense in tarrying. As I went to go out of
the court-yard to take up my aimless walking, a tall chaise in which
were two finely dressed gentlemen drove in at the entrance. I had to
jump from under the horse's feet. Some of the inn servants, who had paid
no attention to me, ran out from the stables at the sound of the wheels,
and in the doorway of the house appeared a slender man, with powdered
hair, who greeted the other two with a graceful salutation. There was a
trace of courtliness in it that was handsome, but my heart gave a bound
as I turned to watch them curiously. They were speaking French. Not the
French that I had heard lately in the prison, but the French that my
mother had taught me and that my uncle spoke.
"Welcome, Monsieur de Brissac!" exclaimed the tall man in the doorway,
"and welcome, Monsieur le Marquis."
"De Brissac!--Monsieur le Marquis!" How natural this name and the title
seemed to me; and then it all came back--"Gabriel Montclair de Brissac,
Marquis de Neuville, friend of my grandfather, le Marquis de Brienne." I
remembered that my uncle had made me learn this in the long list of
stupid names. There were two sons, Georges Lucien and Guy Léon de
Brissac. The latter and his father had both lost their heads on the
guillotine on the same day that my grandfather had lost his. Somehow
the idea that there might be some help come to me from a man who bore
the name of de Brissac crossed my brain, and I turned back into the
court-yard.
The servants had led away the horse, and seated at a window were the
three fine-looking gentlemen. I watched them for a few minutes, not
knowing what to do. I could not hear the sound of their voices, although
the window was open, so I came nearer. The shortest of the three, who
had been addressed as "Monsieur le Marquis," was talking, and
gesticulating with his jewelled hand.
"Yes, yes. We will see the lilies again, my friends," he said in French.
"Give this usurper time enough and the rope, and he will hang himself--a
trite but true saying, my friends."
All at once one of them looked out of the window and saw me standing
close to. I felt as if I had to do something to account for my presence,
and an idea suggested to me by my meeting a singing beggar-woman on the
streets in the morning was put into immediate practice; why, except for
the connection of thought, I should have chosen the song I did I know
not, but it was a fortunate circumstance. I struck out into a little
chansonnette, something in the nature of a serenade, that I had heard my
uncle trill in his high-pitched voice--a song that may have been a
favorite with the gallants of King Louis's court.
I did not look in at the window as I sang, but cast my eyes upward in
apparent oblivion to my surroundings. As I began the third stanza
(something about roses and hearts, I remember) I was interrupted by
approaching foot-steps.
[Illustration: A COMMANDING VOICE EXCLAIMED FROM THE WINDOW, "BRING THAT
LAD IN HERE, SOME ONE."]
My singing had attracted the attention of several people in the
court-yard, and a hostler was hurrying up with the evident intention of
sending me to the rightabout. But if that was what he meant to do, he
had to give it over, for a commanding voice in English, without the
trace of an accent, exclaimed from the window,
"Bring that lad in here, some one."
Before I knew it, I was following one of the servants through a
passageway, and was ushered into the presence of the three men seated at
the table.
"Where could he have learned that song?" one of them was saying. The
short man was humming the air.
"Who are you and what is your name?" questioned the large gentleman with
the powdered hair, who evidently was in authority, speaking in French.
"Jean Amédée de Brienne," I said, taking the name by which I had been
known for the past few months, only giving it, of course, a
pronunciation somewhat different.
"De Brienne!" exclaimed the youngest gentleman, starting. "Where do you
come from?"
"From America, monsieur; but just now from the prison at Stapleton,
whence I have escaped by a good chance."
I noticed that they were looking at one another in incredulity, so I
spoke on, led by I know not what:
"Have I not the honor of addressing Monsieur George Lucien de Brissac,
son of the Marquis de Neuville?"
"I am the Marquis de Neuville," exclaimed the youngest, starting to his
feet. "My father is dead."
"And my grandfather perished on the scaffold with him and with your
brother Guy," I said, calmly.
The effect of this speech was wonderful. The other two men sprang up,
and the taller shut the window suddenly and drew the curtain.
Monsieur de Brissac was for hurrying toward me with both hands
outstretched, when he was restrained.
"Hold! Hold!" said the eldest. "Let us ask more questions. What was your
grandfather's name, my young friend?"
I gave it, and the whole of my family tree, so far as I could remember
it, on my mother's side. Then in a few words I told of my sailing on a
privateer, my capture and imprisonment. Before I had finished Monsieur
de Brissac had come close to me.
"Embrassez-moi!" he said, and despite my rags he threw his arms around
my neck.
In turn the other two did likewise, and the elder man kissed me on the
forehead, after the manner of my uncle. Tears were in his eyes, and
relieved from the great strain under which I had been laboring, I broke
down altogether, and sinking into a chair, I wept, rocking myself to and
fro. "Oh, God be thanked!" I cried over and over.
As soon as I recovered myself I saw that they had placed before me wine
and meat, and were refraining from asking further questions until I
should have refreshed myself. But the words which were whispered in my
ear seemed to shut all fear behind me. "Courage; you are with friends.
We will not desert you," told me to trust.
I looked up from my plate (truly I had been well fed for a vagabond this
day), and found my new friends in consultation. I caught the word
"clothes," and looking down at myself, I reddened. I was mad to tear the
horrid rags from me. Monsieur de Brissac, as I shall call him, as it was
he that afterwards became my patron, saw that I had finished the meal,
and giving me a smile and a bow, came nearer. He was a very handsome
man, of about seven-and-thirty, with a fine figure, and a well-turned
leg that showed to the best advantage in his black small-clothes, for he
also followed a fashion a little different from the English of that
time. But of this I shall speak at greater length farther on.
"Monsieur de Brienne," he said, "I would like to ask you something of
your father."
"He is dead," I answered.
And at this, God forgive me, I saw that I had deceived them all into
thinking that I was my uncle's son, instead of his nephew. Now I
reasoned if I should tell them my remarkable story, and proclaim that I
did not know my father's name, and was all in a fog in regard to that of
my mother, even although I knew so much about the past family history, I
would put a sorry climax to a very good beginning. I regretted deeply
that I should have to let them keep on in the error; but I spoke the
truth, and I did not know it at the time.
"Monsieur de Brienne is dead?" repeated Monsieur de Brissac.
I sighed. "Alas!"
"He was a strange man, and they say the best swordsman at court--_un
vrai galant_."
"There could be no better," I answered. "He taught me all I know."
The gentlemen smiled at this, but the next question that was asked me by
the Marquis de Senez caused me to start.
"Your mother was--"
"Named Hurdiss," I put in. "She was very beautiful, but died in America,
in the city of Baltimore, when I was but a child."
"Did your uncle leave no property? They say he took with him to America
a large amount."
"I have this," I replied, producing the last of the buttons that had
adorned the homespun coat that I wore at Marshwood. "All of my property
was consumed at a fire--everything," I concluded. "I am left without a
son, a relative, or a friend."
The gentlemen handed the button around.
"It is true. I remember that crest well," said the tall man. "And I
remember well, also, your grandfather's beautiful daughters--twins, they
were, and great favorites, as children, with the King."
"Yes," put in M. de Brissac; "and they married, after taking refuge here
in England, one the Duke de B---- and the other the Comte de B----."[1]
[1] I have purposely left out mentioning these names in this story for
reasons.--J. H.
The short nobleman here spoke, musingly:
"After their husbands' deaths they went to America, to seek their
brother, probably, but they met with sad misfortune. Now I remember
hearing something--"
My heart gave a great bound! Was I on the point of finding out my real
name, and who I was by right and law?
"Yes," I said, quickly; "tell me."
"One of them was drowned in a shipwreck," Monsieur le Marquis continued.
"Sad, sad, alas! and the other married some nobody, and went to reside
in the wilderness."
I rather resented this, for I yet cherished the memory of him who had
carried me on his shoulder, but I said nothing.
"Hortense and Hélène, those were the names," said the tall man.
"It was la belle Hélène who lost her life by drowning," said Monsieur le
Marquis.
"Pardon me," put in Monsieur de Brissac; "it was Hortense, I am quite
certain."
Here again arose the uncertainty.
"Who was it, monsieur, that married the English sea-captain?" I asked.
"Ah, was that it?" returned the tall man. "I did not know, nor have I
any recollection of having heard which one of the ladies made this
mésalliance."
The other gentlemen had come to no conclusion, and thus I found out
nothing, after all. This was about the sum total of the talking we did
at our first meeting, although it gives no idea of the time we were at
it, and I was soon led away by the tall man, whose name, like the
others, had the "de" of nobility, and was called de la Remy. I had
caught the idea already that he was the landlord of the inn, and such
was the fact. Indeed, a great many of the _émigrés_ in England at this
time were engaged in far less remunerative employments, and some had all
they could do to put food into their mouths. Well, when I had taken a
bath I was much refreshed; indeed, I could scarcely imagine that I was
the same youth who had been halting along the road-side, ignorant of his
whereabouts and careless as to his destination a few hours before.
As may be perceived (at least I should think the fact was evident
enough), I had ceased to think of myself as a boy. It was only at times
that my age would assert itself in a manner that led me to indulge in
prankishness and skylarking. Thus when the hair-dresser came to my room,
shown up by one of the inn servants, I pretended not to understand
English, and, in consequence, they spoke openly before me. So I found
out not a little. In the first place, I learned that Monsieur de Brissac
and the Marquis de Senez (a Spanish title, I judge), were supposed to be
very wealthy, and that I had been taken by the inn people for the
private servant of the former, who had lost his way when ill some time
previously, and had but now found his master. But of the more important
thing, that I learned more by guesswork than from what was told me, I
shall devote some space, but not now.
That night as I lay in a comfortable bed, after bidding my friends a
good-night, I reasoned over the situation. I had been engaged as private
secretary to the Marquis de Neuville (M. de Brissac), and would start
for London with him on the morrow. There was but one regret, and that
was the deception in regard to my name.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE FIGHTING SAVAGE.
BY CYRUS C. ADAMS.
Within two years we have seen great nations waging four wars with
peoples who are above the savage state, though not fully civilized
according to our ideas. Two of these wars are now ended, and the results
in both have been surprising.
It was thought that the Hova people of Madagascar would at least make an
effort, when a French army invaded their great island in 1895, to repel
the foreigners. They made a great show of resistance when the French
landed their troops. They had cannon, powder, and thousands of rifles,
collected an army of 30,000 men at their inland capital, and the Queen
said she would lead them to battle if they needed her in the field. A
nation of orators, they indulged in much brave and eloquent talk; but
when it came to the pinch, they did not fight. The French marched into
Antananarivo without any opposition worth mentioning, and are now the
masters of Madagascar.
The brave mountaineers of Abyssinia have a different story to tell. For
the first time a native African state has beaten a European power in a
hard-fought war, driven the enemy out of her territory, and imposed her
own terms of peace, including reimbursement for the board of about 2500
prisoners, at so much per week, during last summer. King Menelek has not
lost a foot of territory; and Italy, which sent her army among those
highlands to prove that the King was her vassal and his country her
protectorate, has acknowledged the complete independence of Abyssinia.
How did Menelek and his army win so signal a triumph?
[Illustration: THE MAHDISTS FIGHTING THE ENGLISH IN EGYPT.]
In the first place, no other half-civilized nation to-day is so well
armed as the Abyssinians. They fought the British once, and later, the
Mahdists, with spears and a few muzzle-loading rifles. None of the
soldiers now carries a spear or a muzzle-loading gun. All the small arms
are breech-loaders. King Menelek came to the throne nearly eight years
ago, and being an enterprising and an intelligent ruler, he has made
great changes. He imported, through French territory, large quantities
of excellent rifles. He induced French and Russian experts to come to
his court, and they taught him many things, such as how to make
gunpowder, and to build small bridges and frame houses. In fact, for
years he had been preparing for the possibility of a big war. His army
outnumbered the Italians four to one. He had 60,000 fairly well drilled
soldiers--all brave and hardy men, and he could depend upon their
fealty, and knew they would fight as unflinchingly as any men.
[Illustration: THE WARRIORS OF KING MENELEK FIGHTING THE ITALIANS AT
ADUA.]
When the Italians moved into Abyssinia, Menelek and two-thirds of his
army were in the southern province. The result was that the Italians
pushed south to the very heart of the country before Menelek was able to
confront them. After that, the Italians did not win a fight. In every
battle, except the last one, the natives were the aggressors. Menelek's
aim, with his larger force, was always to surround the enemy. He
completely succeeded only once, and then the Italian detachment, 1000
strong, was killed almost to a man. Usually the Italians and their
native allies broke and fled before Menelek had them penned inside his
lines. The Abyssinians always tried to fight at close range, and were
perfectly reckless in their daring. Their officers invariably led the
charges and fought in the front rank, with the result that more of them
were killed in proportion than of the common soldiers. The King had
several thousand cavalry, but he made little use of them. Most of them
were kept in the rear with instructions, if the infantry were compelled
to retire, to impede the enemy's pursuit and guard the retreat. Under
the circumstances the cavalry had little to do, except in the last great
battle at Adua, where they pursued the routed Italians, and captured
many of the 2500 prisoners.
While Menelek was forcing his enemies back north, the Italians paused
from time to time in places they had previously fortified. Menelek had
thirty cannon, but in no instance succeeded in destroying the walls. The
courage with which the Abyssinians charged up to the fortifications won
the admiration of their enemies, under whose galling fire many hundreds
of natives were killed. Menelek could not capture the strongholds, and
the Italians could not shake him off. In every case, till Adigrat was
reached, hostilities were suspended by mutual consent; the Italians
withdrew nearer to the northern boundary-line, and Menelek would then
advance and attack them again.
Finally the Italians made a last desperate sally to retrieve their
fortunes; and their fate was sealed in the all-day battle of Adua, where
about 5000 of them were killed, wounded, or captured, and the rest fled
pell-mell out of Abyssinia. At all times the Italian troops and most of
their native allies fought well, but their leadership was shamefully
incompetent. Even with good generals, they could not have whipped the
Abyssinians without doubling or trebling their armed force.