village, which was now enveloped in flames and smoke, and involved in
tumult and uproar, while the bullets of the British riflemen came
whistling every second among the crowded streets and blazing rafters.
Placing Virginia upon the mule, which the honest curate had left behind
him as worthless, Louis led it by the bridle, and pressing into the
ranks of the French crossed the bridge, which was no sooner cleared,
than the sapeurs sprung the mine and it was reduced to ruins in a
moment. The firing now ceased, the rapid and swollen state of the Nive
rendering pursuit impossible, and Louis, as he looked back towards
Cambo, beheld his own brigade leisurely entering it,--marching along the
highway, in close column of subdivisions; but they were soon hidden in
the smoke of the village, which was enveloping in a white cloud the
whole southern bank of the river. Continuing to lead by the bridle the
mule upon which Virginia rode, Louis returned to the chateau, where all
was bustle and warlike preparation. The works were bristling with
bayonets, the guns were all shotted, and the lighted matches smoked
beside them. The chasseurs and the two companies of the 105th were
under arms, and the little major was bustling up and down, ordering,
directing, and quarrelling with all and each; while his commandant, the
duke, looked sullenly around him, scanning through a telescope the
advance of the allies.
The death of the count was as yet unknown, the assassins, on discovering
their mistake, having plundered and concealed the body; after which they
absconded, and were no more heard of for a time. Such was the posture of
affairs when Lisle entered the court of the place, where cannon-shot,
bomb-shells, and casks of ammunition lay strewed about in confusion. He
had scarcely reached the spot, when he became aware that a scene of high
dramatic interest was about to be enacted. He was rudely seized by two
soldiers with their swords drawn, while the duke at the same moment
violently dragged his daughter from her saddle, ere Lisle could raise a
hand to free her from his grasp. So bitterly was he enraged, that the
stern reproaches he hurled against the affrighted and sinking Virginia,
and the fierce menaces against Louis, were for some time totally
incoherent.
"False _picaro_! I will have your heart thrown to my dogs for this!" he
exclaimed, gazing at Louis with an eye of vindictive fury. "And as for
_you_, most _gracios senora_, you shall join your sister in the
monasterio at Galicia."
"Stay, my lord!" interposed Lisle, becoming violently excited; "you
somewhat over-rate your authority in this matter. She is no longer
under your control, and so unhand her instantly! Come to me, Virginia!
You are my wedded wife, and no human power can separate us now." The
reply of the fierce Spaniard was a deadly thrust at Louis with his
sword. Some fatal work would have ensued, had not the little major
struck aside the blade, and desired him to remember that the laws of war
must be respected, and that Monsieur Lisle was a prisoner of France.
Louis's blood boiled within him, while poor Virginia covered her face
with her hands, and shrieked aloud to behold her husband and father
glaring at each other with eyes of fire, until by the command of the
latter she was borne away to her chamber in the keep.
"_Demonios!_ major, how did you dare to stay my hand?" asked he, turning
furiously to the Frenchman.
"_Parbleu, monsieur le duc!_"
"Do you suppose I will ever permit the honour of my long-descended house
to be stained by the pretensions of a base and degenerate fool? a
nameless Briton, _par Diez_!"
"Proud Spaniard!" replied Louis, resentment glowing in his cheek and
kindling in his eye; "my ancestry were not less splendid than your own;
but mine is the degradation, in allying myself with a traitor like you,
who has abandoned his king and country to serve under the banner of a
savage invader! But the virtues of such a woman as Virginia might
redeem your whole race from perdition."
"_Parbleu!_" said the major again.
"And recollect, gentlemen and soldiers," continued Lisle, "that if I am
maltreated by any within these walls, you may all smart for it yet. See
you, sirs, the allies are close at hand, driving the boasting soldiers
of the Emperor before them as the wind drives the mist, and the whole of
Gascony will be theirs before another sun sets."
"_Presomption et vanite_!" said the major, turning up his eyes and
shrugging his shoulder. "_Aha! Les Francois sont au fait du metier de
la guerre de terre!_" And many officers of the 105th, who crowded
round, laughed heartily, and observed, that probably in a week or two
the allies would be flying for shelter across the Pyrenees. Lisle
blessed his stars that the garrison was not composed entirely of
Spaniards; for, assuredly, the duke would have slain him on the spot but
for the firm interference of the French officers. He was, however, put
under close arrest, and a sentinel placed over him. The place in which
he was confined was a projecting turret of the outworks, and there he
was left to his own reflections, which were none of the most agreeable.
He found himself acting the part of a romantic hero, but certainly
little to his own satisfaction. In the same turret was confined a
genuine Teague, a soldier of the 88th regiment, who had been placed in
durance for two desperate attempts to escape when the allies appeared in
sight. Mister Paddy Mulroony was seated very composedly in a corner,
smoking a black pipe about an inch long, while in his cunning but
good-natured face was seen that droll curl of the mouth and keen
twinkling of the eye, which are so decidedly Irish.
"Och, tearin' murder! this is a poor case indeed," said he, springing up
to attention. "Bad luck to the whole boiling of them! and is it a
gintlemin like yer honner that they are afther traitin' this way? Never
mind, sir; the allies--the hand iv Saint Pater be over thim!--are in
sight, and may be they will be stormin' this rookery some fine morning,
whin, wid the blessin' ov God, we'll see every throat in it cut."
Lisle was boiling with rage at the treatment to which he was subjected;
but that was a slight affair when compared with his anxiety for
Virginia, who was now entirely at the mercy of her father, of whose
ferocity and remorseless disposition he had seen several examples. For
some time he remained immersed in thought, while he strode hastily
backward and forward in the narrow compass of their prison; and it was
not until Teague's maledictions became very vehement, that Lisle found
he had a companion in misfortune.
"Well, friend; and what brought you here?"
"Eight French spalpeens, sir, and my fortine or misfortine, and that
little baste ov a major, bad luck to him! I was nigh out ov their claws
this very mornin', clever and clane; but they clapped me up here, the
ill-mannered bog-trotters! And sure, it 'ud vex ould Moses himself to
see the rid coats across the river yonder, and yet be caged up here like
a rat in a trap."
"To what regiment do you belong?"
"The Connaught Rangers, yer honner,--the boys that gave Phillipon, the
ould scrawdon, such a fright at Badajoz."
"A brave corps. And your name?"
"Pat Mulroony. I come from one side of Dublin, where my father has a
beautiful estate, wid deer-parks such as ye never saw on the longest
day's march. And though it is meself that siz it, there was not a
smarter fellow than me in the whole division, from right to left; no,
not one, yer honner! If you plaze, sir, we may yet give the French--bad
cess to them! the slip; and by the mortal! I'll stand by yer honner
like steel, for shure I'd do it for love if for nothin' else; for the
Scots and Irish were one man's childer in Noah's day. In ould ancient
forren times, the blessed Saint Patrick himself was a Scotsman, until
his bad-mannered countrymen, in a fit of unkindness, cut off his head,
and he swam over wid it under his arm to Donaghadee, and became a good
Irishman. Often I have heard ould Father O'Rafferty at Dunleary tell us
of that, when I used to take him home from Mother Macnoggin's wid a
dhrop in his eye. He was the broth of a boy, that ould O'Rafferty, and
a riglar devil among the girls, for all that he was a praste; and whin
the craytur was in, it's little he'd think of giving the best man in his
flock a palthog on the ear. But perhaps it's inthrudin' on yer honner I
am?" Louis, though pleased with the fellow's humour, was not in a
talking mood. "May my tongue be blisthered if I spake any more to ye,
or bother ye in the midst of yer throubles!" said Pat in conclusion.
Anxiety and fear for poor Virginia plunged Lisle into deep despondency,
and not all the attempts of honest Mulroony could wean him from his
melancholy reflections. He could scarcely be in any other than an
unpleasant mood, as it was rather annoying for a newly-married man to
spend the time immediately succeeding his nuptial-day in a stone turret,
measuring eight feet by six. Two or three days passed away, and Louis
found considerable satisfaction in the knowledge that Virginia was yet
near him,--that the walls of the fortress still contained her. He had
acquainted his humble friend with his story, and Paddy became more eager
than before to serve him; and vowed, for his sake, to face "either man
or devil, if he had only an opportunity, bad luck to it!" The place in
which they were confined was an _echauguette_, or small turret, built on
an acute angle of a bastion close to the gate of the fortress, and from
the loop-holes Louis and his friend kept by turns a constant watch, so
that it was impossible for Virginia to be carried off without their
knowledge; and Lisle would probably have become frantic had he seen her
departure, which he hourly expected would take place. One night
Mulroony was on sentry at the loop-hole, watching the gateway, while
Louis slept on the floor. The night was intensely dark,--"one on which
ye couldn't see yer nose fornenst ye," as Mulroony himself said.
"Blistheration and blackness be on the day I ever saw ye!" soliloquized
he, as he scanned the castle and its defences. "Shure it ud vex Mister
Job, let alone a Connaught Ranger, to be caged up here shaking at ivery
puff of wind, like a dog in a wet sack. Bad cess to them, the spalpeens
ov blue blazes! Och! how long is this to last at all at all."
"Senor,--Luiz!" said a soft voice, close beside the loop-hole.
"Hubbuboo, tearin' murther! who are you, misthress?" said Mulroony,
starting back in dismay as a dark figure, muffled in a hooded mantilla,
appeared at the loop-hole. "Is it me you're looking for, darlint? Well
thin, honey, it's just right you are, for there is not a smarter man in
all the Connaught Rangers than Pat Mulroony,--damn the one from right to
left! Ye've jist come to the right shop, honey; for, at wake or wedding
who was the jewil ov the young ladies like Mr. Mulroony?"
"_O madre Maria!_" said poor Virginia, shrinking back in astonishment
and grief. Understanding that Louis occupied this turret, she had
resolved to pay him a visit, favoured by the darkness of the night and
the inattention of her father and the duenna, who were both at that time
engaged,--the former at the chess-board with the major, and the latter
with her mass-book and brandy-bottle. Trembling with affection, fear,
and the chill night-wind, which blew roughly on her delicate frame, she
sought the place of Lisle's confinement; and great was her dismay at
Mulroony's reply, which, although she did not understand, she well knew
to be the voice of a stranger: but she implored him in Spanish, _por
amor de San Juan de Dios_, to say where Don Luiz was confined.
"Don't be in such a flustheration, honey," said Mulroony, putting out
his arms to embrace her. The lady shrunk back indignantly, and it now
occurred to the egotistical gentleman to awaken Louis, thinking the
visit might be intended for him.
"I say, sir! here's something wantin' to spake wid ye. I can't tell
what it says, becase it spakes like naythur Frinchman nor devil, God
bless us!" Louis sprung up.
"Virginia!" said he, and gave her his hand through the loop-hole. But
she made no reply, save pressing it to her throbbing breast: her heart
was too full to permit her to utter any thing.
"Virginia! have you any new distress to tell me of?"
"O Luiz!" said she, sobbing as if her heart would burst, "we meet for
the last time."
"How!" he exclaimed in distress and alarm, encircling her with his arm
as if to keep her with him. "Who will dare to separate us now?"
"My father. To-morrow I go from this; but whether to Paris or Galicia,
I know not. O Luiz! his hatred is terrible. But for the intercession
of the major, you would have been in eternity by this time." The
challenge of a sentinel at the other angle of the bastion, and the tread
of a foot, now alarmed them.
"Retire, Virginia, for a moment; 'tis only the patrol, or some affair of
that sort. I would not have you discovered here for the world." She
had only time to shrink into a corner, and conceal herself behind the
carriage of a piece of ordnance, when a man approached the turret. It
was the corporal of the guard, who usually came every night before the
drums beat, to see that the prisoners were all right. The door was of
massive oak, studded with iron nails, and while the corporal was undoing
its ponderous fastenings, a sudden thought occurred to Lisle. "Be on
the alert, Mulroony," said he; "I will now endeavour to escape, or die
in the attempt!"
"Right, yer honner! I'm yer man. Lave me to dale wid that spalpeen ov
a corporal, and by the holy Saint Peter! I won't lave a whole bone in
his skin."
"Hush! let us only compel him to give up the watchword, and then we will
gag and bind him hard and fast. I need keep faith no longer with those
who doubt my parole."
The unsuspecting Frenchman opened the door and looked in, merely to
assure himself that the prisoners were in their cage. "Come in,
corporal dear," said Mulroony, grasping him by the throat, and dragging
him into the chamber.
"_Sacre--diable!_" growled the astonished Gaul, struggling with his
athletic adversary, who tripped up his heels, and in a twinkling laid
him on his back, and pressed his knees upon his breast.
"Och, honey! don't be in such a divel ov a flustheration! Give but the
smallest cry in life, and it's yer neck I'll be dhrawin' like a
pullet's!"
"_Merci, monsieur! Ah, misericorde!_" gasped the half-strangled
soldier.
"Come, _monsieur caporal_!" said Louis fiercely; "surrender the
countersign, or expect such treatment as desperate men may yield you.
Mulroony, take your hand from his throat. Answer, Frenchman, at your
peril!"
"MARENGO!" replied the other, and commenced immediately to bellow aloud
for his comrades; but his cries were drowned in the singing of the wind
and noise of the Nive, which rushed over a steep cascade below the
bastion.
"Och, murther! it's all over now; he'll bring the whole pack on us wid
his schreechin',--the devil dhraw the tongue out ov ye! Tunder an'
oons! Thurf and blazes! what's this he is after now?"
Paddy soon discovered that, and to his cost. The corporal, on getting
one hand free, drew his bayonet, and plunged it into the arm of his
antagonist, who no sooner found himself wounded, than he broke into a
tremendous storm of passion. Thundering out one of those formidable
curses which come so glibly from an Irish tongue, he wrested the weapon
from the Frenchman, and buried it twice in his breast. All this passed
in less than a minute, and the Frenchman expired without a groan.
"Mulroony, have you killed him?" asked Louis, considerably excited.
"Deed have I, sir,--the murderin' villyan!" answered the other
composedly.
"Poor fellow! I had no intention that he should be slain. He was but
doing his duty."
"A purty thing, to make sich a moan for a spalpeen iv a Frencher,"
answered the Irishman testily.
"Our lives are now indeed forfeited, if we cannot escape. Virginia!"
He went from the turret to where she sat in a sort of stupor with cold
and terror, and in a few words informed her that they must escape now,
or be for ever lost.
"Blue blazes, sir!" bawled Paddy from the turret door; "is it the wimmen
ye're afther? Is this a time to go making love? Musha! musha! sure
there's always mischief where they are."
"Quick now, Mulroony,--follow us!" said Louis, who encircled Virginia
with his arm to support her. "We have not a moment to lose. Heaven
grant me firmness now!"
Armed with the bayonet, and grumbling curses at the blood which was
flowing freely from his arm, Mulroony followed Lisle and the lady to the
barrier-gate, where two sentries were posted. The night was dark and
black, and a dismal wind howled between the works and embrasures. The
sentinels kept within their turrets, and every thing seemed favourable
to their escape.
"_Qui vive?_" challenged one fellow at the gate. Louis hesitated a
moment,--and the British reply "Friend," almost escaped his lips.
"_Belzebub! Qui va la?_" cried the gate-ward, again striking the butt
of his firelock on the sentry-box floor.
"Make some answer, or we are undone," whispered Virginia, as she clung
in terror to the arm of Louis, who, still advancing towards the gate,
replied in a feigned voice,
"_Caporal, hors de la garde._"
"_Aha!_" replied the sentinel, coming from his box. "_Avance, qui a
l'ordre_."
"MARENGO," replied Louis.
"_Passe, mon ami_," replied the soldier, returning to his box. His
suspicions were lulled, and they gained the gate without further
molestation, the darkness of the night rendering their figures so
indistinct, that it was impossible for the sentinels to discover them.
The barrier was composed of strong planks, through which a little wicket
was cut.
"How fortunate!" said Lisle; "the passage is open, and the draw-bridge
down. We are free, and shall soon be safe among the British troops."
"Huisht, plaze yer honner; its hearin' us they'll be! Be aisy. Help
out the lady: will you lane on my arm too, mem?"
"Senor?" She did not understand him.
An exclamation in Spanish caused them all to start. "_Dios mio!_ my
father!" shrieked Virginia, as an officer outside the gate sprung
forward and drove his sword through the body of the brave Mulroony, who
fell mortally wounded, while the guard and sentries came running from
all quarters to the spot. Louis found himself again a prisoner, and
when on the very brink of freedom.
"Bring a lantern!" exclaimed the duke, whom Lisle's evil genius had
brought to the gate, but on what errand he never discovered, "Bring a
light, and let us see what soldier of the Emperor is base enough to
assist prisoners to escape. I surely heard French spoken by some one."
The drummer of the guard held a lantern to Lisle's face, and his scarlet
coat, when it appeared in the light, caused every brow to lour. The
countenance of the duke turned pale when he beheld him. His eyes
glistened like those of a serpent, as he gazed alternately upon him and
Virginia, who in an agony of horror sunk down at his feet, close to the
body of the gallant Irishman, whose features were now becoming rigid in
death. He had expired almost immediately after receiving the thrust of
the Spaniard's sword.
At that moment a soldier came hastily forward, saying that the corporal
of the guard lay murdered in the turret from which the prisoners had
escaped, and a volley of threats and execrations broke from the men of
the 105th, who crowded round.
"Aha!" said the Gascon major, pressing forward. "Is it thus you slay the
soldiers of the Emperor? You shall smart for this night's work,
_Monsieur Ribaud_!"
"Do you dare to apply such an epithet to me?" replied Lisle furiously,
spurning the Gascon with his foot, and struggling to free his arms,
which were tightly grasped by the soldiers.
"Bind up his eyes, some of ye, and let him be instantly shot! Give not
a moment for prayer or supplication. We will have life for life,--blood
for blood!" cried the Spaniard.
"Base renegade! I scorn your malice, and defy you to terrify me," cried
Louis, regardless of all consequences, and from despair gathering a
courage which gained him the admiration of the French, though it won
from them no mercy. The little major was foaming with exasperation at
the insult he had received, and made no longer any intercessions. The
private soldiers, who were enraged at the death of their comrade, eyed
him likewise in malignant silence. Virginia was borne away senseless,
and Lisle gazed sadly after her, until he was startled by the sharp
words of command given coolly by a Serjeant to six soldiers, who were
picked out to become his executioners. For a moment his heart grew sick
and sunk within him, when he thought of his home and of those brave
comrades who were only a few miles distant. But he scorned to ask mercy
from the duke, from the father of Virginia, who by the light of a huge
lantern (which cast a dull flickering light on the dark groups of armed
soldiers, and still darker walls of the fortress) watched the
preparations made by the firing-party with steady gravity and coolness.
"_Chargez vos armes!_" cried the serjeant. "_Prenez la cartouche!
Amorcez! L'arme a gauche!_" &c. and the noise of the steel ramrods
ringing in the barrels as the cartridges were rammed home, fell like a
knell upon the ears of Louis. He certainly grew pale, but his heart
never quailed as he looked upon the loading of the musquets. He
resolved to die with honour to his character and the garb he wore. At
that moment, so critical to him, a French cavalry officer, on a panting
horse, dashed up to the gate at full gallop, inquiring with all the
hurry and importance of an aide-de-camp for the commandant of the place.
"_Monsieur le Duc_," said he, "the allies are in motion: their troops
have begun to cross the Nive, and Marshal Soult desires that you will be
on the alert, and defend the ford, under the guns of this chateau, to
the last." Without waiting for an answer, he wheeled round his horse
and galloped out of sight in a moment. The clatter of the hoofs had
scarcely died away, before two of the sentinels, posted on the bastion
over-looking the ford, fired their musquets. A volley replied, lighting
up the whole fortress for an instant, and all became hurry and
confusion. Louis was thrust into his old place of confinement,--the
castle-gates were secured,--the bridge was drawn up, and in five minutes
every man was at his post. From the inmost recesses of his heart Lisle
thanked Heaven for his narrow escape; and while in the close compass of
his prison he listened to the booming cannon and musquetry, which shook
the ancient fabric to its foundations, he earnestly prayed that the
attack would be successful; and he well knew, by the hearty British
cheers which from time to time came ringing on the wind, even above the
noise of the conflict, that his comrades were carrying all before them.
*CHAPTER XI.*
*PASSAGE OF THE NIVE.*
"The bayonet pierces, and the sabre cleaves,
And human lives are lavished everywhere,
As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves,
When the stript forest bows to the bleak air."
_Byron._