Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume I Part 43

"He turned towards the left as he pa.s.sed out; I lost sight of him then."

I hurried immediately onward, and entered the wood by the path in the direction mentioned, my mind painfully excited by what I heard, and resolved to do everything to probe this matter to the bottom. But, though I walked miles in every direction, I met none save a few f.a.got-gatherers, and they had not seen any one like him I sought for.

With a weary and a heavy heart I turned towards my quarters, all the happiness of the morning dashed by the strange event I have related.

My night was feverish and disturbed; for a long time I could not sleep, and, when I did, wild and terrible fancies came on me, and I started up in terror. A horrible face recurred at every instant to my mind's eye; and even when awake, the least noise, the slightest rustling of the leaves in the park, agitated and excited me. At last, worn out with the painful struggle, between sleep and waking, I arose and dressed.

The day was breaking, and already the birds were carolling to the rising sun. I strolled out into the park. The fresh and bracing air of morning cooled my burning brow; the mild influences of the hour, when sweet perfumes float softly in the dew-loaded breeze, soothed and calmed me; and I wandered back in thought to her who already had given a charm to my existence I never knew before.

The long-wished-for dream of my boyhood was realized at last. I knew the sister of my friend; I sat beside her, and heard her speak to me in tones so like his own. I was no longer the friendless alien, without one to care for, one to feel interested in his fortunes. The isolation that pressed so painfully on me fled before that thought: and now I felt raised in my own esteem by those dark eyes that thanked me as I spoke of poor Charles. What a thrill that look sent through my heart! Oh, did she know the power of that glance! Could she foresee what seeds of high ambition her every smile was sowing! The round of my duty was to me devoid of all fatigue, and I returned to my quarters with a light step and a lighter heart.

The entire day I lingered about the Trianon and near the lake; but Marie never came, nor did she appear in the walks at all. "Was she ill? Had the vision, whatever it was, of yesterday, preyed upon her health?" were my first thoughts, and I inquired eagerly if any doctor had been seen about the chteau. But no, nothing unusual seemed to have occurred, and a ball was to take place that very evening. I would have given worlds, were they mine, even to know in what part of the Palace she was lodged; and fifty times did I affect to have some duty, as an excuse to cross the terrace and steal a cautious glance towards the windows,--but in vain.

So engrossed was my mind with thoughts of her that I forgot all else.

The pickets, too, I had not visited since daybreak, and my report to the minister remained unfilled. It was late in the evening when I sallied forth to my duty, and night, with scarce a star, was falling fast. My preoccupation prevented my feeling the way as I walked along; and I had already visited all the outposts except one, when a low, faint whistle, that seemed to issue from the copse near me, startled me. It was repeated after a moment, and I called out,--

"Who 's there? Advance."

"Ah, I thought it was you, Burke!" said a voice I at once knew to be Beauvais's. "You broke faith with me at the town-gate yonder, and so I had to come down here."

"How? You surely were not there when I pa.s.sed?"

"Yes, but I was, though. Did you not see the woodcutter, with his blouse on his arm, lighting his pipe at the door of the guardhouse?"

"Yes; but you can't mean that it was you."

"Do you remember his saying, 'Buy a cheap charretie of wood, Lieutenant; I 'll leave it at your quarters? '"

"De Beauvais," said I, gravely, "these risks may be fatal to us both.

My orders are positive; and if I disobey them, there are no powerful friends nor high relatives to screen me from a deserving punishment."

"What folly you speak, Burke! If I did not know you better, I should say you grudged me the hospitality I have myself asked you for. One night to rest,--and I need it much, if you knew but all,--and one day to speak to Marie, and you have done with me. Is that too much?"

"No,--not if I did not betray a trust in sheltering you, far too little to speak of, much less thank me for. But--"

"Do spare me these scruples, and let us take the shortest way to your quarters. A supper and three chairs to sleep on, are worth all your arguments, eloquent though they be."

We walked on together, almost in silence: I overwhelmed with fear for the result should my conduct ever become known; he evidently chagrined at my reception of him, and little disposed to make allowances for scruples he would not have respected himself.

"So here we are at last," said he, as he threw himself on my little sofa, seemingly worn out with exhaustion. I had now time to look at him by the light, and almost started back at the spectacle that presented itself. His dress, which was that of the meanest peasant, was ragged and torn; his shoes scarce held together with coa.r.s.e thongs; and his beard, unshaven for weeks past, increased the haggard look of features where actual want and starvation seemed impressed.

"You are surprised at my costume," said he, with a sad smile; "and, certes, Crillac would not court a customer habited as I am just now. But what will you say when I a.s.sure you that the outward man--and you will not accuse him of any voluptuous extravagance--has a very great advantage over the inner one? In plain words, Lieutenant, you 'd hurry your cook, if you knew I have not tasted food, save what the hedges afford, for two days: not from poverty neither; there 's wherewithal there to dine, even at Beauvilliers's." He rattled a well-filled purse as he spoke.

"Come, come, De Beauvais! you accuse me of doing the honors with a bad grace; and, in truth, I wish I were your host outside the pickets. But let me retrieve my character a little. Taste this capon."

"If you never dined with a wolf, you shall now," said he, drawing his chair to the table and filling a large goblet with Burgundy.

For ten or fifteen minutes he ate on like a man whom long starvation had rendered half savage; then ceasing suddenly, he looked up, and said, "Lieutenant, the cuisine here might tempt a more fastidious man than I am; and if these people are not hospitable enough to invite you to their soiries, they certainly do not starve you at home."

"How knew you that I was not asked to the chteau?" said I, reddening with a sense of offended pride I could not conceal.

"Know it? Why, man, these things are known at once. People talk of them in saloons and morning visits, and comment on them in promenades; and though I seem not to have been keeping company with the beau monde latterly, I hear what goes on there too. But trust me, boy, if your favor stands not high with the Court of to-day, you may perhaps be preparing the road to fortune with that of to-morrow."

"Though you speak in riddle, De Beauvais, so long as I suspect that what you mean would offer insult to those I serve, let me say,--and I say it in all temper, but in all firmness,--you 'll find no ready listener in me. The highest favor I aspire to is the praise of our great chief, General Bonaparte; and here I pledge his health."

"I'll drink no more wine to-night," said he, sulkily pus.h.i.+ng his gla.s.s before him. "Is this to be my bed?"

"Of course not; mine is ready for you. I 'll rest on the sofa there, for I shall have to visit my pickets by daybreak."

"In Heaven's name, for what?" said he, with a half sneer. "What can that poor Savary be dreaming of? Is there any one about to steal the staircase of the Louvre, or the clock from the pavilion of the Tuileries? Or is it the savants of the Inst.i.tute he 's afraid of losing?"

"Rail on, my good friend; you 'll find it very hard to make an old scholar of the Polytechnique think poorly of the man that gains battles."

"Well, well, I give up my faith in physiognomy. Do you remember that same evening in the Tuileries when I asked your pardon, and begged to be your friend? I thought you a different fellow then from what I see you now; that silly hussar pelisse has turned many a head before yours."

"You wish to make me angry, De Beauvais, and you 'll not succeed. A night's rest will bring you to better temper with all the world."

"Will it, faith! In that case a tolerably large portion of it must take leave of it before morning; for I promise you, my worthy hussar, there are some I don't expect to feel so very charitably towards as you expect."

"Well, well! What say you to bed?"

"I 'll sleep where I am," said he, with some harshness in his tone.

"Good-night."

The words were scarcely uttered when he turned on his side, and, shading his eyes from the light with his hand, fell fast asleep.

It was already past midnight, and as I was fatigued with my day's walking, I soon retired to my bed, but not to rest. Whenever I closed my eyes, Beauvais's pale and worn face seemed before me,--the haggard expression of suffering and privation. And then I fell to thinking what enterprise of danger could involve him in such necessities as these. It must be one of peril, or he had not become what now I saw him. His very voice was changed,--its clear, manly tone was now harsh and dissonant; his frank and cheerful look was downcast and suspicious.

At last, worn out with thinking, I fell asleep; but was suddenly awakened by a voice shouting from the outer room. I sat up and listened.

It was De Beauvais, calling wildly for help; the cry grew fainter, and soon sank into the long-drawn respiration of repose. Poor fellow! even in his dreams his thoughts were of strife and danger.

CHAPTER x.x.x. A WARNING.

The day was breaking when I was up and stirring, resolving to visit the pickets before De Beauvais awoke; for even still the tone of ridicule he a.s.sumed was strong before me. I pa.s.sed stealthily through the room where he was still sleeping; the faint light streamed through the half-closed shutters, and fell upon a face so pale, so haggard, and so worn, that I started back in horror. How altered was he, indeed, from what I had seen him first! The cheek once ruddy with the flush of youth was now pinched and drawn in; the very lips were bloodless, as if not illness alone, but long fasting from food, had pressed upon him. His hair, too, which used to fall upon his shoulders and on his neck in rich and perfumed locks, silky and delicate as a girl's, was now tangled and matted, and hung across his face and temples wild and straggling. Even to his hands his changed condition was apparent, for they were torn and bleeding; while in the att.i.tude of sleep, you could trace the heavy unconscious slumber of one utterly worn out and exhausted. His dress was of the coa.r.s.e stuff the peasants wear in their blouses; and even that seemed old and worn.

What strange career had brought him down to this I could not think; for poor as all seemed about him, his well-stocked purse showed that his costume was worn rather for disguise than necessity.

Such was my first thought; my second, more painful still, recurred to her he loved, by whom he was perhaps beloved in turn. Oh! if anything can add to the bitter smart of jealousy, it is the dreadful conviction that she for whom our heart's best blood would flow to insure one hour of happiness, has placed her whole life's fortune on the veriest chance,--bestowing her love on one whose life gives no guarantee for the future,--no hope, no pledge, that the world's wildest schemes of daring and ambition are not dearer to his eyes than all her charms and affections. How does our own deep devotion come up before us contrasted with this! and how, in the consciousness of higher motives and more enn.o.bling thoughts, do we still feel inferior to him who, if poor in all besides, is rich in her love!

Such envious feelings filled my heart as I looked on him; and with slow, sad step I moved on, when by accident I came against a chair, and threw it down. The noise awoke him, and with a spring he was on his legs, and drawing a pistol from his bosom, cried out,--

"Ha! what is 't? Why, Burke, it 's you! What hour is it?"

"Not four yet. I 'm sorry to have disturbed you, De Beauvais; but the chair here--"

"Yes, yes; I placed it so last night. I felt so very heavy that I could not trust myself with waking to a slight noise. Where to, so early? Ah!

these pickets; I forgot." And with that he lay down again, and before I left the house was fast asleep once more.