TRIGAUD PROVES THAT IF HE HAD BEEN HERCULES, HE WOULD
PROBABLY HAVE ACCOMPLISHED TWENTY-FOUR LABORS INSTEAD
OF TWELVE.
It was about four in the afternoon when Michel, thrust into the
lock-up of the guard-house at Saint-Colombin, became aware of the
delights of that abode. On entering what seemed to be a dungeon, the
young man's eyes, accustomed to the brilliant light without, could
distinguish nothing around him. Little by little they grew accustomed
to the darkness, and then their owner was able to make out the sort of
lodging he was in.
It was partly under and partly above the surface of the ground; its
walls were of thicker and more solidly constructed masonry than was
usual in such buildings, for the reason that it supported the walls of
the house above it. The floor was bare earth; and as the place was
very damp, that earth was nearly mud. The ceiling was of beams, placed
very near together. The light usually entered through a grating placed
just above the level of the ground; but owing to the necessities of
its present use this aperture was closed inside by heavy planks, and
outside by an enormous millstone placed vertically in front of it. A
hole in the centre of the stone gave entrance to a feeble ray of
light, of which two thirds was intercepted by the plank shutters, so
that it only cast a single weird gleam into the middle of the cellar.
In the track of that gleam lay the fragments of a cider-press,--that
is to say, the branch of a tree squared at one end, and now
half-rotten, and a circular trough of free-stone decorated with
silvery arabesques by the slimy and capricious promenades of slugs and
snails.
To any other prisoner than Michel the inspection of his surroundings
might have seemed desperately discouraging, for it plainly showed
there were few, if any, chances of escape; but the young baron was
moved to make it by nothing more than a feeling of vague curiosity.
The first anguish his heart had ever felt plunged him into a state of
prostration where the soul is indifferent to all outside things; and
in the first shock of discovering that he must renounce the sweet hope
of being loved by Mary, palace or prison were alike to him.
He sat down on the edge of the trough, wondering who could be the
young man he had seen with Mary; then, after the violence of his
jealous transports subsided, he turned to recollections of his first
intercourse with the sisters. But his anguish was as great from the
one emotion as from the other; for, says the Florentine poet, that
great painter of infernal torture, "There is no greater pain than to
recall a happy time in wretchedness."
But let us now leave the young baron to his grief, and see what was
happening in other parts of the guard-house of Saint-Colombin.
This guard-house, materially speaking, which had been occupied for the
last few days by a detachment of troops of the line, was a vast
building, with a front toward the courtyard, while its rear looked
out upon the country road that leads from Saint-Colombin to
Saint-Philbert-de-Grand-Lieu, about a kilometre from the first of
these two villages and a stone's throw from the high-road between
Nantes and the Sables-d'Olonne.
This building, constructed on the ruins and with the fragments of an
old feudal fortress, occupied an eminence that commanded the whole
neighborhood. The advantages of the position had struck Dermoncourt as
he returned from his expedition to the forest of Machecoul.
Accordingly, he left a score of men to hold it. It answered the
purpose of a block-house, where expeditionary columns could find, on
occasion, a resting-place or a refuge, and at the same time it might
be made a sort of station for prisoners, where they could be collected
until a sufficiently imposing force was mustered to escort them to
Nantes, without danger of rescue.
The accommodations of the guard-house consisted solely of a somewhat
vast hall and a barn. The hall, over the cellar in which Michel was
confined, and consequently five or six feet above the ground, served
as the guard-room. It was reached by a flight of steps, made with the
old stones of the fortress, placed parallel with the wall.
The barn was used as barracks for the men; they slept there on straw.
The post was guarded with all military precautions. A sentry stood
before the gate of the courtyard which opened to the road, and a
lookout was stationed in an ivy-covered tower, the sole remains left
standing of the old feudal castle.
Now, about six o'clock in the evening, the soldiers who formed the
little garrison were seated on some heavy rollers which had been left
at the foot of the outside wall of the house. It was a favorite spot
for their siesta; there they enjoyed the gentle warmth of the setting
sun and a splendid view of the lake of Grand-Lieu in the distance, the
surface of which, tinted by the beams of the star of day, resembled at
that hour an immense sheet of scarlet tin. At their feet ran the road
to Nantes, like a broad ribbon through the midst of the verdure which
at that season covered the plain; and we must admit that our heroes in
red trousers were more interested in what happened on that road than
in all the beauties which Nature spread before them.
On the evening of which we write, the laborers leaving the fields, the
flocks returning to their stables made the road a somewhat lively and
varied panorama. Each heavy hay-cart, each group returning from the
Nantes market, and, above all, every peasant-woman in her short skirt
was a text for remark and jocularity, which, it must be owned, were
not restrained.
"Goodness!" cried one of the men, suddenly, "what's that I see down
there?"
"A fellow with bagpipes," said another.
"Bagpipes, indeed! Do you think you are still in Brittany? Down here
they don't groan bagpipes; they only whine complaints."
"What has he got on his back, then, if it isn't his instrument?"
"That's an instrument, sure enough," said a fourth soldier; "it must
be an organ."
"Queer organ!" said a fifth. "I tell you that's a sack; the man's a
beggar. You can tell him by his clothes."
"Then his sack has eyes and a nose, like the rest of us. Why, look at
him, Limousin!"
"Limousin's arm is long, but his sight is short," said another; "you
can't have everything."
"Pooh!" said the corporal; "I see what it is. It is one man carrying
another on his shoulders."
"The corporal is right!" chorused the soldiers.
"I am always right," said he of the woollen stripes, "first as your
corporal, next as your superior; and if there are any of you who doubt
after I have once said a thing, he is going to be convinced now, for
here come the men straight toward us."
As he spoke, the tramp who had roused the discussion (in whom our
readers have no doubt recognized Trigaud-Vermin, as in his bagpipe,
organ, or sack, they have also recognized his rider, Aubin
Courte-Joie) turned off the main-road to the left, and came up the
flight of steps which led to the guard-house.
"What a pair of brigands!" said one of the soldiers. "If they caught
us alone, behind a hedge, either of those rascals would clip us a
shot, wouldn't he, corporal?"
"Like enough," responded the latter.
"But as we are all here together they come and beg,--ha, the cowards!"
"I'll be shot if I give 'em a penny," said the soldier who had spoken
first.
"See here!" said another, picking up a stone; "I'll put something into
his hat."
"I forbid you," said the corporal.
"Why so?"
"Because he hasn't any hat."
The soldiers burst out laughing at the joke, which was recognized at
once as very choice.
"Let's have a look," said a soldier, "at what the fellow is really
carrying; don't discourage him. For my part, I don't find such delight
in this beggarly guard-house that I despise any sort of fun that comes
along."
"Fun?"
"Yes, any kind,--music perhaps. Every tramp in this region is a sort
of troubadour. We'll make him sing what he knows, and a good deal he
doesn't know; it will help pass the evening."
By this time the mendicant, now no longer an enigma to the soldiers,
was close beside them, holding out his hand.
"You were right, corporal; he has got another man perched on his
shoulders."
"I was wrong," responded the corporal.
"How so?"
"That isn't a man,---only a section of humanity."
The soldiers laughed at the second joke as heartily as they laughed at
the first.
"He can't spend much on trousers," said one.
"And less for boots," added the facetious corporal.
"Aren't they hideous?" said the Limousin. "Upon my word, you might
think 'em a monkey mounted on a bear."
While these poor waggeries were flying about and reaching Trigaud's
ear, he stood immovable, holding out his hand and giving a most
pitiable expression to his face, while Aubin Courte-Joie, in his
capacity as orator of the association, repeated, in his nasal voice,
the unvarying formula:--
"Charity, if you please, my good gentlemen!--charity for a poor
cartman with both legs taken off by his cart, coming down the hill at
Ancenis."
"What ignorant savages they must be to expect alms of soldiers in
garrison. Scamps! I'll bet if we searched their pockets we'd find
double what we have got in our own."
Hearing which suggestion, Aubin Courte-Joie modified the formula, and
came down to a precise request:--
"A bit of bread, just a bit of bread, if you please, my good
gentlemen," he said. "If you haven't any money you have surely a bit
of bread."
"Bread!" said the corporal. "Yes, you shall have bread, my good man;
and with the bread, soup, and with the soup a bit of meat. We'll do
that for you; but I should like to know what you'll do for us."
"My good gentlemen, I'll pray God for you," replied Courte-Joie, in
his nasal whine, which formed the treble to his partner's bass.
"That will do no harm," said the corporal,--"no, certainly, there's no
harm in that; but it isn't enough. Come, haven't you anything funny in
your sack?"
"How do you mean?" asked Courte-Joie, assuming ignorance.
"I mean, villanous old black-birds that you are, you must be able to
whistle an air or two; in which case, let's have the music first. That
will pay for the soup and the bread and the meat."
"Ah, yes, yes; I understand. Well, we don't refuse. On the contrary,
officer," said Aubin, flattering the corporal, "it is fair enough that
if you give us the charity of the good God we should try to amuse you
and your company as best we can."
"Good; the more the better. You can't go too far, for we are dying of
dulness in your devilish land."
"All right," said Courte-Joie; "we'll begin by showing you something
you never saw before."
Although the promise was nothing more than the usual exordium of
clowns at a circus, it roused the curiosity of the soldiers, who
clustered round the mendicants in silence, with an eagerness that was
almost respectful. Courte-Joie, who until then had kept his seat on
Trigaud's shoulders, made a movement of his body, indicating that he
wished to be deposited on the ground, and Trigaud, with that passive
obedience which he practised to the will of his master, seated him on
a fragment of the old battlement half-buried in nettles, which lay
near the rollers on which the men were seated.
"Hey! how neatly that was done!" cried the corporal. "I'd like to
recruit that fellow and turn him over to the fat major, who can't find
a cob fit to carry him."
During this time Courte-Joie had picked up a stone, which he gave to
Trigaud. The latter, without further directions, closed and then
opened his hand, showing the stone reduced to fragments.
"Good Lord! he's a Hercules! You must tackle him, Pinguet," said the
corporal, addressing the soldier we have hitherto called the Limousin.
"All right," said the latter, jumping up; "we'll see about it."
Trigaud, taking no notice of the words or actions of Pinguet,
continued his exercises. He seized two soldiers by the straps of their
knapsacks, gently raised and held them aloft at arm's-length for a few
seconds, and then as gently put them down, with perfect ease.
The soldiers cheered him loudly.
"Pinguet! Pinguet!" they cried, "where are you? Here's some one who
can knock you into a cocked-hat."
Trigaud continued his performances as if these experiments on his
strength were a pre-arranged matter. He invited two other soldiers to
seat themselves astride of the shoulders of the first two, and he
carried all four with almost as much ease as if there were but two. As
he put them down, Pinguet arrived with a gun on each shoulder.
"Bravo, Limousin! bravo!" cried the soldiers.