THE GRAND SATISFACTION.
Naught’s had, all’s spent
When our desires are gained without content—SHAKESPEARE.
The grand satisfaction was received; but it did not prove so highly
satisfactory after all. Grand satisfactions seldom do.
Prince Ernest raised his fallen foe in his arms, supported him upon his
bosom and gazed on his upturned, pallid face in pity and distress.
“Quick! you come hither, monsieur! Quick! you come hither, Doctor
Dietz!” he called hastily to his own surgeon, who with the two seconds
and the valet were hurrying to the spot.
“Good Heaven! he is killed!” cried Francis Tredegar, throwing himself
down in a kneeling posture beside his friend and relieving Prince Ernest
of the weight of the body.
Doctor Dietz dropped on his knee on the other side and began hastily to
unloosen the clothes and examine the condition of the wounded man.
Major Zollenhoffar bent sadly over the group.
Simms, the valet, stood gaping and staring in speechless consternation.
The impulsive Austrian skipped around the circle, acting in his distress
more like an excitable dancing master than an accomplished Prince.
Each face was as pale as the bloodless face below them; for these were
not the times of war, and the men were not inured to sudden and violent
death.
At length the surgeon looked up from his examination.
“Is he quite dead? Is there not the slightest hope?” anxiously inquired
Francis Tredegar.
“He is not dead,” said Doctor Dietz. Then turning to Major Zollenhoffar,
he requested—“Monsieur, oblige me; send someone to the carriage for my
case of instruments.”
“I will go myself,” answered the major, hurrying off.
“Monsieur, you do the favor; send your servant for the water,” said
Doctor Dietz, turning again to Francis.
“Hasten, Simms. There is a hut around the projection of that rock. Go
there and procure some vessel and fill it at the nearest spring and
hurry back with it as fast as possible,” ordered Francis, speaking
eagerly while he still supported the almost lifeless form of his friend.
Simms ran off at the height of his speed to get the water. And all this
while Prince Ernest skipped about giving vent to his lamentations and
declaiming in his excitement, without his usually careful regard to the
construction of the English language.
“My Heaven! I shall wish to kill him not! I know not what he quarrel
with me because! what he insult me! what he defy me! what he shoot me
because—I know not—I—! A fair woman shall give me her bouquet to hold,
to keep, to cherish! Why not? I am the slave of the fair woman! I take
her bouquet! It is sweet, it is fresh, it is precious like herself! I
press it to my lips! I put it to my heart! Why not? What wrong I do that
he shall charge me? shall accuse me? shall shoot me!” he exclaimed,
jumping about, gesticulating, and making such havoc of English auxiliary
verbs as even the best-read foreigners may sometimes do when speaking
rapidly and excitedly.
“Lay your friend down flat upon his back—I wish to probe his wound,”
said Doctor Dietz to Francis Tredegar, as he saw Major Zollenhoffar
running towards them, with his case of instruments.
Francis Tredegar slowly eased the body down upon the level ground, and
then gently drew his hand from under the head.
As he did so, he uttered a cry of horror.
“What is it?” demanded the doctor.
Francis held up the palm of his hand, which was crimson with clotted
blood.
“Where did that come from?” asked the doctor.
“From the back of his head. Oh, he is quite dead, or must be soon! He is
shot through the brain!” exclaimed Francis in great distress.
“Impossible!” cried the doctor.
“No, no, no!” exclaimed Prince Ernest, vehemently.
“I shall not shoot him through the brain! I shall not aim at his head at
all! I shall aim at his right arm. I shall not wish to kill him, only to
punish him! I shall aim at his right arm, but I shall shoot him through
the right side! It shall be a chance, an accident, a misfortune. I meant
it not—not I!”
While the Austrian was skipping and exclaiming, the surgeon was
examining the back of Alexander’s head. The hair was matted with blood
from a deep wound there.
“You see it is as I say—the ball has passed quite through his head, and
come out here,” said Francis Tredegar.
“Impossible! The ball entered the right side of the chest, passed
through the right lobe of the lungs, and is lodged here below the right
shoulder-blade. See for yourself!” said the surgeon, laying back
Alexander’s shirt-bosom, so as to show the small, dark, inverted hole at
which the bullet had entered.
“But this wound in the back of his head—?”
“Was made by his falling and striking some hard, sharp substance—a
fragment of rock, probably.”
While the surgeon spoke he was not idle. He took his case of instruments
from one assistant and the water from the other.
He carefully cut away the blood-clotted hair, and washed and plastered
the wound in the head; and then he cut out the bullet, which lay little
more than skindeep under the shoulder blade. He dressed the wounds as
well as circumstances would permit, and then he said;
“We had better take your friend back to his apartments at the hotel. I
will continue to give him my best care there.”
Francis Tredegar assented.
Simms was once more despatched to the hut to borrow its only door and
when he returned he not only brought the door, but was followed by the
kind-hearted master of the hut, bringing a load of blankets. With these
materials a rude litter was constructed, and upon it Alexander’s form
was laid. And thus he was borne upon the shoulders of Simms the valet,
Knox the hutter, and two laboring men who came and offered their
services.
Prince Ernest returned to the hotel in his carriage. Major Zollenhoffar
and Francis Tredegar walked behind the bearers of the wounded man.
Alexander’s cab went back empty.
“I say,” said the hotel servants to the cabman as soon as they saw him,
“you took a party of gents out to the mountains to look for minerals,
didn’t you?”
“Yes,” growled the Jehu.
“Well, and they found ’em—at least one of ’em did,—a beautiful round
specimen of lead mineral; and he liked it so well he put it into his
bosom. But I’m told it didn’t agree with him!”
Alexander was carefully carried to his chamber and laid upon his bed.
Around him stood Doctor Dietz, Mr. Tredegar, John Simms, and one or two
of the servants of the hotel.
In this more favorable position, his wounds were more carefully examined
and skilfully dressed. Both wounds were found to be very serious.
He was relieved of his blood-stained garments and put into a clean suit
of under clothes, and again laid back upon his pillow.
During this process he had given but few signs of consciousness—only
groaning slightly when being moved, as if motion distressed his
lacerated chest.
And then the room was darkened.
“Now let him rest quietly,” said Doctor Dietz.
“But will you not give him something?” inquired Francis Tredegar.
“No.”
“No opiate?”
“Certainly not.”
“No anodyne?”
“Nothing. Let him rest for the present, only renew as they become
heated, the cold water compresses on his wounds.”
Francis Tredegar constituted himself head nurse, and seated himself
beside his patient.
Major Zollenhoffar entered the room.
“Prince Ernest leaves by the ten o’clock boat for Southampton; but
wishes to know the state of the gentleman before he goes,” whispered the
Major to Mr. Tredegar.
“I was about to go and report to the Prince,” said Doctor Dietz.
“His Highness requests that you will not leave your charge so long, as
he may require your assistance. His Highness will dispense with your
services about his own person for the present. But he requests that you
will keep him informed of the progress of your patient,” said Major
Zollenhoffar.
The surgeon bowed low in acquiescence with the prince’s behests.
“I hope this arrangement may meet your approbation, sir,” said the
Major, courteously turning towards Mr. Tredegar.
“It excites my gratitude, sir,” replied Francis Tredegar. “It excites my
warmest gratitude. We could not probably find such surgical skill for
ourselves.”
With another bow and an earnestly expressed hope that the wounded man
might yet do well, the Major took leave, and returned to his master,
leaving the patient in charge of Doctor Dietz, Francis Tredegar and
Simms.
Within an hour Prince Ernest and all his suite, except his surgeon,
embarked for England.
And _we_ must return to General Lyon and Dick Hammond.