Vladimir. I sat in speechless astonishment; General Klapka stared
stupidly at him like a man in a dream; while Olga began to weep,
clinging to Vladimir.
The next morning it was all over Wilna that Vladimir had surrendered
himself, and that a telegram had been received from St. Petersburg
ordering Count Loris to be set at liberty, but to remain in the city on
a sort of honorable parole until the trial of the prisoners came off.
A crowd of his friends and well-wishers, and the multitude of idlers
whom such occasions always collect, assembled at the prison-gates in
the early afternoon to see him brought forth. My friend the village
priest and myself stood next the gate.
"There are the two who so cruelly tormented Count Kourásoff during his
captivity," began to be whispered around. Taunts and epithets were
freely bestowed upon us, which soon changed to open-mouthed wonder; for
when the great gates clanged wide open, and Count Loris with uncovered
head walked forward, we were the first he saluted and embraced.
Vladimir escaped with a sentence of only seven years' exile, which,
through his own good conduct and his brother's influence, was
considerably shortened.
Sometimes when I behold the happiness of the Count and Countess
Kourásoff, I say to myself with a sigh. "This ideal life might have
been mine with my adored Maria!"
A VIRGINIA COLONEL.
The colonel was a regular old-time Virginia colonel, and still stuck
manfully to his blue coat and brass buttons and his buff nankeen
waistcoat, in which quaint costume his clean, handsome, ruddy old face
never looked handsomer. "Buff and blue is the costume for gentlemen to
wear," the colonel would roar; and whatever he said, Yellow Bob echoed
like a Greek chorus. "Yes, siree; dat sut'ny is so. _I_ got a blue coat
ole marse done gimme." The colonel's clinging to old days and old ways
was pathetic. Although he swore forty times a day that the war had
ruined him, it had not. There was enough left for the colonel and madam
and the colony of their old servants, which, as the case frequently is
to this day in Virginia, had settled around them. The colonel still had
Yellow Bob to swear at, and Mrs. Randolph had Patsy to carry the keys
and make mango pickle and peach cordial. But the age had swept them
high and dry. They talked about things chiefly that happened in the
'fifties, and when they got into the 'sixties the colonel was apt to
damn the Yankees so profusely that Mrs. Randolph was fain to ask him
if he remembered the trip they took to the Springs in 'forty-nine,
when his pocket was picked of nine hundred and eighty dollars; at
which the colonel and Yellow Bob would exchange winks. Yellow Bob
knew that a race between Colonel Doswell's strawberry roan and Major
Beverly's Sir Archy had more to do with the loss of that nine hundred
and eighty dollars than Mrs. Randolph--good, simple soul--suspected. As
for the colonel, the war did not make so much difference to him as he
fancied. He now spent the best part of his life sitting on the broad
front porch at Drum Point, with a julep handy and Yellow Bob within
swearing distance, and for gentlemen of seventy-five, of the colonel's
temperament, there is not much else to do. Horse-racing he regarded as
out of the question, because he no longer had nine hundred and eighty
dollars to throw away on it whenever he fancied. The colonel believed
that the present age was utterly tame and devoid of incident, and
loudly lamented that happy, bygone time, when duels, runaway matches,
racing, betting, and other gentlemanly amusements were more in favor
than at present.
"Damme, sir," cried the Colonel, fretfully, "nothing happens now; the
young folks don't even run away and get married. A fellow calls another
fellow a liar, and--dog my cats!--the other fellow goes and sues him in
the courts, instead of shooting him down in his tracks. Did you ever
hear of Jack Thornton? Now that man had some adventures, sir, in this
very county, sir, that ought to be written in a book."
Yellow Bob here took up the conversation. "Books is fur white
folks--dat's what I say. Dese here fool niggers gwine 'long de road
ter school wid dey spellin'-books is mighty disqualifyin' ter me. Unc'
Isaac Minkins he k'yarn git up and preach 'dout a gret big hymn-book in
he hand fur to read de Bible outen."
"Hold your tongue, you rascal!" bawled the colonel, highly pleased
nevertheless. "The infernal free-school system, sir, and the
unjustifiable application of steam to machinery, has been the ruin
of this country. As I was telling you, though, about Jack Thornton;
his land joined mine, and we were at William and Mary together. Well,
Jack was as handsome a fellow as ever stepped, and the only man in
the county that could beat me after the hounds. He had a very pretty
property too, sir, and as likely a lot of negroes as there was in the
county, and there was eleven hundred acres in the tract at Northend. By
Jove! what jolly bachelor dinners he used to give there! Eh, Bob? I got
mighty near being kicked by the madam for a little turn about we had at
one of those dinners. That dinner, sir, lasted three days, and I rode
my horse up the front stairs into Jack's bedroom. Ah, they were days!"
"An' missis--she was Miss Sally Ambler den--she meet me in de road when
I was k'yarin' ole marse home in de chaise, an' he k'yarn say a word.
And I say: 'Sarvint, missis. Marse, he mighty sick; I feerd he ain't
gwi' live twell de doctor git ter him.' And Miss Sally she bust out
cryin' and jump off'n her horse, and come ter de chaise an' look in
marse's face. An' he 'gin ter holler an' say: 'I ain't sick, my dear;
I'm drunk as a lord--hic. An' ef you knew how jolly I feel, you'd go
an' git drunk yerself.' Missis she turn away, an'--"
"Zounds, sir! do you propose to tell the secrets of my life, you yellow
scoundrel? But it's true. I had a hard time bringing the madam round,
and by the Lord I don't believe I'd have done it at all but for Jack
Thornton. He swore he had made me tight, when, ha! ha! ha! I could
drink him under the table any day in the week. The madam believed
Jack, thank God! though. Well, as I was telling you, there were some
monstrous exciting things in Jack's life. First, after he had settled
down to live like a gentleman at Northend, old Smithers got his note
for ten thousand dollars to pay some debts of honor Jack had made; and
then the doggoned interest began piling up, and the black measles broke
out among his negroes, and he lost nearly half of them, and we had a
drought two years in succession, and the first thing I knew Jack was
a bankrupt. Old Scaife Beverly, Jack's uncle, was as rich as a Jew,
and had thousands of dollars in his secretary; but the old skinflint
said something or other about Jack's squandering his patrimony, and
Jack swore he'd see the old rascal at Davy Jones's before he'd take
a cent from him; so there he was, strapped and stranded. Well, about
that time there was an election for sheriff, and Jack came to me and
consulted me about his running for sheriff, and I told him he couldn't
do better; and the fact was, if he didn't get hold of some ready money
he'd have to sell his negroes, and that was what he mortally hated, of
course. So the next court day" (the colonel pronounced it cote day)
"he announced himself as a candidate. I made a speech myself on the
court-house green, calling upon the gentlemen of the county to support
him. I was always counted a good speaker, sir, when I was in the House
of Delegates."
"An' ole missus she was allers a mighty good han' at writin' o' de
speeches," chimed in Yellow Bob.
"You bandy-legged rascal," shouted the Colonel, angrily, turning very
red, "I've a great mind to kick you off this plantation, as I've had
every day for forty odd years."
Here Bob created a diversion. "Dat sut'ny was a good speech you made
fur Marse Jack. Missis she was in Richmon' when dat speech was spoke.
De folks dey holler an' whoop, an' Marse Jack Thornton he came up an'
shooken old Marse's han' and says, 'Ef I'm 'lected, I'll owe it to you,
Kun'l.'"
"So he did--so he did," said the Colonel, somewhat mollified. "But
still 'twas very surprising to see Jack Thornton performing the
sheriff's duties--and he had no deputy either. I was mightily afraid
he'd hurt his chances with Virginia Berkeley; and so it did, because
Virginia turned around and married Miles Corbin about the time Jack
was elected. However, I couldn't blame her very much. She was only
seventeen, and Jack was too proud to go to Colonel Berkeley's house
after he had lost pretty near everything; and Virginia afterward
confessed to the madam that she married Miles Corbin as much to spite
Jack as to please her father. Corbin was worth every cent of two
hundred thousand dollars, and was a mighty prim, proper fellow; never
touched a card, didn't get drunk occasionally like a good fellow; but
for all his straight-laced ways he had a devil of a temper. He used
to whip his negroes and then hand round the plate in church. Damme,
sir, if I didn't button up my breeches' pocket and look him square in
the eye whenever he handed his infernal plate to me; and communion
Sundays, when I went up to the rail with madam, I made him stand out of
my way, sir, with as little ceremony as if he'd been a poodle dog. As
for Virginia Berkeley, she was a girl of tremendous spirit, and she led
Miles Corbin a dance, I'm happy to say. She was pretty as a picture,
too; wasn't she, Bob?"
"Pretty!" echoed Yellow Bob--"she was the prettiest 'oman ever I seed,
scusin' 'twas missis when she was fust married. Miss Ferginny, she had
black eyes dat f'yarly bu'n a hole in you when she look at you. She had
the leetlest foot an' han', an' when she laugh, de dimples come out all
over her face."
"That's so; and her mouth--God bless me! Well, everybody knew that she
and Miles Corbin wouldn't pull in harness together, and of course they
quarreled like the devil. Virginia was a thorough-bred, and she held
her head up high; but sometimes, the madam says, Virginia would come
over here and cry as if her heart would break. And the madam soon found
out that Jack Thornton was the reason of it. I don't think Virginia
ever tried to get along with Corbin, although God knows no woman could
have done it; but they hadn't been married a month before they had it
hot and heavy."
"Ole Unc' Snake-root Jim say she throwed a kittle of bilin' water at
him fust time he cuss her. Maybe dat's what dey calls hot and heavy,"
remarked Bob.
"Anyhow ugly stories began to get out about the way things were going
at Corbin Hall. Jack Thornton never went there, and kept out of
Virginia Corbin's way as much as he could; besides, he spent all his
time nearly riding over the country on sheriff's duty. He told madam
if he hadn't been elected sheriff, and had to keep on the move, he'd
have blown his brains out sitting down and doing nothing at Northend,
and thinking about Virginia Corbin and her misery. Queer fellow in
some ways, Jack was. Seemed to like work after he got used to it.
Anyway it began to be talked about that Miles Corbin--the sanctimonious
devil--had struck Virginia Berkeley more than once. Some people did not
believe it, because when they first began to disagree, Virginia had
been heard to say that if Miles ever laid his hand on her she'd kill
him--and she would have done it, too. The Berkeleys are that kind,
though I must say that when Virginia had her own way she was as amiable
as anybody I ever saw, and if Miles Corbin had treated her right she
would have made him a good wife. But she was one that couldn't stand
whip and spur. It happened, though, that Jack Thornton one night,
coming home from court, found one of Corbin's servants lying at the
lane gate of Corbin Hall with a broken leg. So although he had sworn
he'd never darken Miles Corbin's doors, yet he had to take the fellow
up in his gig and drive up to Corbin Hall. It was about eleven o'clock
at night, and the negroes had all gone to bed, but there was a light
in the house and a commotion going on. The dogs started too, but Jack
soon stopped them--I never saw a dog in my life that wouldn't fawn on
handsome Jack--when, as he told me afterward, the hall door flew open,
and Virginia Corbin rushed out and almost into Jack Thornton's arms.
Miles Corbin was right after her with his fist doubled up. Jack says
he was so dumbfounded his head reeled, but he heard Miles order her to
come back into the house. Then Virginia straightened herself up and
said, "I'll come back, because I'm not afraid of you; but I want to
tell you now that if ever you raise your hand against me I'll kill you
as surely as I live. You've never driven me to much--I've submitted
and waited and hated--but a very little more will drive me to murder."
Then from somewhere in her dress she pulled out a pistol. "Do you see
this? Well, I got it for just such an emergency as may happen. Jack
Thornton, do you hear me?" At this Jack jumped at Corbin, and catching
him by the collar, walloped him until Corbin yelled. But he didn't
stop for that; he laid it on as long as he could stand it, and then
kicked Corbin all over the porch. The darky with the broken leg began
to holler, and that brought all the other negroes trooping out; and at
least forty of them saw the trouncing. And then Virginia showed them
the pistol, and told them what she meant to do if he ever struck her
again. Well, it was hushed up as far as possible. Virginia was the
proudest woman I ever saw; and she asked Jack to keep it quiet. And so,
while everybody knew that she and Miles Corbin had had a big flare-up,
nobody exactly knew the circumstances. Virginia didn't even tell the
madam.
"So things went on for a year or two, until one night I was waked by
hearing that lazy yellow fellow yonder tapping at my window. He had
been to Corbin Hall courting a black girl over there, when Corbin
died--for he died from a pistol wound."
"I had jes' done tell Ma'y Jane--um! she _were_ a gal--good-night,"
said Yellow Bob, taking up the thread of the story, "an' I was comin'
through de front yard, when I see de lights bu'nin' in de parlor, an'
heerd Marse Miles Corbin a-yellin' at Miss Ferginny. I was skeered
ter go 'way an' skeered ter stay; but pres'n'y I hear her scream, an'
I run in, an' d'yar was Marse Miles layin' on de sofa wid de blood
po'in' from he hade. Miss Ferginny she stan' up lookin' mighty cur'us,
wid a smokin' pistol in her han'. Marse Miles he groan, but seem like
Miss Ferginny didn't hear 'im. I run an' fotch him a piller, an' gin
him some water, an' den I tuck out ter de quarters ter raise de black
folks an' de overseer. Dey all come runnin'. De overseer he was de
po'est kin' of po' white trash. He jes' come right out in cote an' tole
ev'ything he see dat night; an' de black folks dey all stan' up for
Miss Ferginny, an' 'low dey didn't see nuttin' 'tall."
"That's so," said the colonel; "for Virginia Berkeley had to stand up
in the prisoner's dock, and every negro on the land swore they hadn't
seen a pistol, hadn't heard a quarrel, didn't know anything about
it, and that Virginia was the best mistress in the world. When I got
there that night Miles Corbin was dead, the low-lived dog! Virginia
met me and the madam. 'I didn't kill him,' she said, as quiet as you
please, 'although I meant to do it. He struck me, and I went and got
the pistol. He got it from me, and went to the table to withdraw the
load, when he got nervous--he always was a coward--and it went off.'
Madam looked at her. 'Has he ever really beaten you?' she asked. For
answer Virginia laughed a dreadful kind of a laugh, and, pulling up
her sleeve, showed her the marks of Corbin's fingers. 'Look here!' she
said, showing her a great bruise on her shoulder-blade. Madam just
burst out crying, and put her arms around Virginia. 'Thank God,' she
said, 'you didn't kill him!' You can just imagine the commotion it
raised; but everything would have been settled at the inquest if it
hadn't been for that dog of an overseer. He and Miles Corbin had been
associates. A gentleman associating with his overseer! And Mrs. Corbin
had ordered him out of her drawing-room not long before; so he owed
her a grudge, and he paid it. Such a talk and hubbub was raised that
at the next county court the grand jury returned a true bill against
Virginia Berkeley Corbin for the murder of her husband. By George!"
said the colonel, pausing to wipe his forehead. "As for Jack Thornton,
he nearly went crazy. At first he said he'd resign the shrievalty, or
kill himself, before he'd serve the summons on her. She was staying
here where madam had brought her the night Miles Corbin died. But the
Board of Magistrates--we didn't have a tuppence-ha'penny county court
then, but gentlemen served as magistrates--the board sent for him, and
reasoned about the trouble and expense he'd put the county to if he
resigned that way without notice; and Mrs. Corbin sent him word that
the greatest service he could do her was to remain in office until
after the trial was over. So at last he consented, but I thought he'd
die the day he served the writ on her."
The colonel paused again, confronted by the dead and gone tragedy.
"Good Gord A'mighty!" said Yellow Bob, slowly and solemnly. "I 'member
dat day, an' I gwi' 'member it twell judgment day. 'Twas 'bout time de
fish bite in June. Missis didn't 'ten' ter de chickens er de cows er
nuttin' den. She was all time projeckin' wid Miss Ferginny. Seem like
she didn't keer whe'r de tuckey aigs hatch, er de cows give milk, er de
'taters come up in de g'yarden, she was so tooken up wid Miss Ferginny.
When Marse Jack Thornton rid up in de yard dat day I never see a man
look like him. He was de color of a ash-cake 'fo' de ashes is washed
off. Miss Ferginny she was settin' on de po'ch wid ole marse an' missis
when he come up de steps. When he come to'ds her he stop an' look like
he gwi' drop. An' ole marse, he go up ter him, an' missis, an' den Miss
Ferginny she walk to'ds him an' hol' out her han'."
Another long pause came.
"I dunno what she say, but ole marse help him fin' a paper, an' he
show it ter 'em, an' dey all git in de big kerridge an' go up ter de
cote-house. An' I set on de boot wid Unc' Torm Driver, an' Patsy she
rid on de place fur de trunk behin'. Missis and Miss Ferginny was
inside, an' ole marse he rid horseback wid Marse Jack Thornton."
"They bailed her to appear at the next term of the circuit court,"
said the colonel, whose turn it was now to tell the story; "and half
the county was there to ask the honor of going on her bond. But she
only took me and her counsel, Mr. Severn. You see everybody knew she
was innocent, and that it was only the malice of that villain of an
overseer to get even with her. And the county gentry hated Miles Corbin
like the devil, and all of 'em sympathized with his wife. The Board of
Magistrates rose when she entered; and when she left the court-room,
and when she went down to get in my carriage, with me on one side of
her and madam on the other, the magistrates had got out by a shorter
way, and were bowing on each side of the carriage door. The presiding
magistrate, in the name of the others, expressed their regrets that
they were unable to go on her bail-piece, and when she drove out of the
village, sitting up straight in my carriage, and looking like a queen,
every man she met took off his hat to her, because, you see, Virginia
Berkeley was a lady, and Miles Corbin was the damnedest villain--"
Here the colonel went off into a roaring hurricane of profanity, which
somehow didn't sound profane, but rather as a kind of cordial emphasis
to what he said.
"She stayed here until the trial came off. Of course she didn't see
anybody, but the whole county called on her. Dang me, but I believe
they were sorry she hadn't killed Miles Corbin after all; he deserved
it, the dog! The day of the trial the madam and I took her up to the
cote-house--"
"An' I rid on de boot wid Unc' Torm Driver, an' Patsy she sat on de
place fur de trunk behin', an' ole marse rid on horseback with Marse
Jack Thornton," echoed Bob the parrot.
"When we got to the cote-house you never saw such a crowd in your life.
We got Virginia in the cote-room as quietly as we could, and the madam
and I sat by her. And when she was asked--'Virginia Corbin, what say
you, guilty or not guilty?' she stood up as brave as a lion, and says,
just as cool as you please, holding up her little hand, 'Not guilty.'
The people yelled for half an hour, and the Court didn't say a word,
and you may be sure the sheriff didn't.
"The overseer, Higgins, had tried to get a lawyer to help the
prosecuting attorney, but he couldn't do it, and the prosecuting
attorney, I tell you, had to be very careful what he said. The first
witness they put on the stand was Higgins. He told a mighty straight
story. He told of the quarrels between Miles Corbin and his wife, and
the threats he had heard her make of killing Corbin if he continued
to strike her. Then he told about my Yellow Bob waking him up in the
middle of the night, and of his going up to the house and seeing Miles
lying on the sofa dying, and Miles saying, 'My wife did this.' At this
there was such a thundering row in the court-house that the Court was
obliged to demand order. But Mrs. Corbin remarked, out loud: 'That
is true. He lied about me with his last breath.' Then the overseer
identified the pistol as the one he had seen in Mrs. Corbin's hands,
and saw on the drawing-room table on the night of Miles Corbin's death.
And altogether it made a bad showing.
"Yellow Bob was the next witness called for the prosecution. It was
rich testimony--ha! ha! ha!"
Yellow Bob chuckled gleefully over the recollection. "Ev'ything dat
ar persecutin' retorney ask me, I say 'Naw.' 'Did you seen Mr. Miles
Corbin on de sofa?' 'Naw, sah.' 'You waked Higgins up at the overseer's
house about midnight?' 'Naw, sir.' 'But Mr. Higgins says you did?' 'Mr.
Higgins, he ain't nuttin' but po' white trash. I doan' keer what he
say. I doan' know nuttin' 'tall 'bout Marse Miles Corbin dyin'. May be
he had de ager, an' he nose bleed, an' he bleed hisself ter de'f.' 'No,
he didn't have any ager. He was killed with the pistol.' 'Well, den,'
I say, 'may be Mr. Higgins kilt him.' De jedge larf at dat. 'But,'
said the persecutin' retorney, 'all the black folks seen you. They'll
swear to it.' 'Well, bring 'em up heah, an' ef dey swar I d'yar dat
night, I kin swar jes' as hard I warn't. Dem wuffless black niggers
ain't a-gwine ter disencourage me. Dem Corbin niggers allers was mighty
wuffless and lyin'. Dey done took a heap o' corn outen our corn-house.'
'Come, now,' says the persecutin' retorney, 'of course you were there
the night Mr. Corbin died. You gave the alarm.' 'I didn't give 'em no
sech a thing, I ain't got no 'larm ter give. I wish I hedn't tole 'em
nuttin' 'tall 'bout it,' I say, an' den de persecutin' retorney he say,
'Now you admit you were there.' 'Naw, I 'ain't remit it;' I say; 'I
doan know nuttin' but dat Mr. Higgins over yander is de meanest white
man gwine, an' Miss Ferginny, she an' missis is mighty thick; an' ef
she warn't de right kin' o' 'oman my missis wouldn't hev nuttin' 'tall
fur ter do wid her; an' dem black niggers kin swar all dey wants dey
seed me. I ain't cipherin' 'bout dem.' Den de persecutin' retorney he
say, 'I can't manage the witness,' and I jes' walk right outen de box
dey put me in, an' when I pass Miss Ferginny, I say, 'Sarvint, mistis.'"
The old colonel laughed uproariously during the recital.