CHAPTER VI
THE MAITRE D'ARMES
Beyond doubt Colonel John had got himself off the scene with a certainamount of dignity. But with all that he had done and suffered in thelands beyond the Baltic and the Vistula, he had not yet become soperfect a philosopher as to be indifferent to the opinion held of himby others. He was, indeed, as he retired, as unhappy as a more ordinaryman might have been in the same case. He knew that he was no craven,that he had given his proofs a score of times. But old deeds and aforeign reputation availed nothing here. And it was with a deep senseof vexation and shame that he rode out of the barrack-yard. Why, ohwhy! had he been so unlucky as to enter it? He was a man, after all,and the laughter of the mess-room, the taunts of the bully, burned hisears.
Nor were his spirits low on his account only. The cruelty of man toman, the abuse of strength by those who had it, and the pains of thosewho had it not, the crookedness of the world in which the weak go tothe wall--thoughts of these things weighed him down. But more, and moreto the purpose, he saw that after what had happened, his chances ofsuccess in the enterprise which had brought him to town, and which wasitself but a means to an end, were lessened. It might not be possibleto pursue that enterprise any farther. This was a mortifying thought,and accounted for the melancholy face with which he sought the inn, andsupped; now wishing that he had not done this or that, now ponderinghow he might turn the flank of a misfortune which threatened to shatterall his plans.
For if he was anxious to recover the mare, his anxiety did not restthere. Her recovery was but a step to other things; to that influenceat Morristown which would make him potent for good; to thatconsideration which would enable him to expel foolish councils, andsilence that simmering talk of treason which might at any moment boilup into action and ruin a countryside. But he knew that he could onlyget the mare from those who held her by imposing himself upon them; andto do this after what had happened seemed impossible. The story wouldbe told, must be told: it would be carried far and wide. Such thingswere never hid; and he had come off so ill, as the world viewed things,he had cut so poor a figure, that after this he could hope for nothingfrom his personal influence here or at Morristown. Nothing, unless hecould see himself right at Tralee.
He brooded long over the matter, and at length--but not until after hismeal--he hit on a plan, promising, though distasteful. He called Bale,and made inquiries through that taciturn man; and next morning he satlate at his breakfast. He had learned that the garrison used the innmuch, many of the officers calling there for their "morning"; and theinformation proved correct. About ten he heard heavy steps in thestone-paved passage, spurs rang out an arrogant challenge, voicescalled for Patsy and Molly, and demanded this or that. By-and-by twoofficers, almost lads, sauntered into the room in which he sat, and,finding him there, moved with a wink and a grin to the window. Theyleant out, and he heard them laugh; he knew that they were discussinghim before they turned to the daily fare--the neat ankles of a passing"colleen," the glancing eyes of the French milliner over the way, orthe dog-fight at the corner. The two remained thus, half eclipsed asfar as the Colonel was concerned, until presently the sallow-faced mansauntered idly into the room.
He did not see the Colonel at once, but the latter rose and bowed, andMarsh, a little added colour in his face, returned the salute--with anindifferent grace. It was clear that, though he had behaved better thanhis fellows on the previous day, he had no desire to push theacquaintance farther.
Colonel John, however, gave him no chance. Still standing, and with agrave, courteous face, "May I, as a stranger," he said, "trouble youwith a question, sir?"
The two lady-killers at the window heard the words and nudged oneanother, with a stifled chuckle at their comrade's predicament. CaptainMarsh, with one eye on them, assented stiffly.
"Is there any one," the Colonel asked, "in Tralee--I fear the chance issmall--who gives fencing lessons?--or who is qualified to do so?"
The Captain's look of surprise yielded to one of pitying comprehension.He smiled--he could not help it; while the young men drew in theirheads to hear the better.
"Yes," he answered, "there is."
"In the regiment, I presume?"
"He is attached to it temporarily. If you will inquire at the Armouryfor Lemoine, the Maitre d'Armes, he will oblige you, I have no doubt.But----"
"If you please?" the Colonel said politely, seeing that Marshhesitated.
"If you are not a skilled swordsman, I fear that it is not one lesson,or two, or a dozen, will enable you to meet Captain Payton, if you havesuch a thing in your mind, sir. He is but little weaker than Lemoine,and Lemoine is a fair match with a small-sword for any man out ofLondon. Brady in Dublin, possibly, and perhaps half a dozen in Englandare his betters, but----" he stopped abruptly, his ear catching asnigger at the window. "I need not trouble you with that," he concludedlamely.
"Still," the Colonel answered simply, "a long reach goes for much, Ihave heard, and I am tall."
Captain Marsh looked at him in pity, and he might have put hiscompassion into words, but for the young bloods at the window, who, heknew, would repeat the conversation. He contented himself, therefore,with saying rather curtly, "I believe it goes some way." And he turnedstiffly to go out.
But the Colonel had a last question to put to him. "At what hour," heasked, "should I be most likely to find this--Lemoine, at leisure?"
"Lemoine?"
"If you please."
Marsh opened his mouth to answer, but found himself anticipated by oneof the youngsters. "Three in the afternoon is the best time," the ladsaid bluntly, speaking over his shoulder. He popped out his head again,that his face, swollen by his perception of the jest, might not betrayit.
But the Colonel seemed to see nothing. "I thank you," he said, bowingcourteously.
And re-seating himself, as Marsh went out, he finished his breakfast.The two at the window, after exploding once or twice in an attempt tostifle their laughter, drew in their heads, and, still red in the face,marched solemnly past the Colonel, and out of the room. His seat, nowthe window was clear, commanded a view of the street, and presently hesaw the two young bloods go by in the company of four or five of theirlike. They were gesticulating, nor was there much doubt, from thelaughter with which their tale was received, that they were retailing ajoke of signal humour.
That did not surprise the Colonel. But when the door opened a momentlater, and Marsh came hastily into the room, and with averted facebegan to peer about for something, he was surprised.
"Where the devil's that snuff-box!" the sallow-faced man exclaimed."Left it somewhere!" Then, looking about him to make sure that the doorwas closed. "See, here sir," he said awkwardly, "it's no business ofmine, but for a man who has served as you say you have, you're a d----dsimple fellow. Take my advice and don't go to Lemoine's at three, ifyou go at all."
"No?" the Colonel echoed.
"Can't you see they'll all be there to guy you?" Marsh retortedimpatiently. He could not help liking the man, and yet the man seemed afool! The next moment, with a hasty nod, he was gone. He had found thebox in his pocket.
Colonel Sullivan smiled, and, after carefully brushing the crumbs fromhis breeches, rose from the table. "A good man," he muttered. "Pity hehas not more courage." The next moment he came to attention, for slowlypast the window moved Captain Payton himself, riding Flavia's mare, andtalking with one of the young bloods who walked at his stirrup.
The man and the horse! The Colonel began to understand that somethingmore than wantonness had inspired Payton's conduct the previous night.Either he had been privy from the first to the plot to waylay thehorse; or he had bought it cheaply knowing how it had been acquired;or--a third alternative--it had been placed in his hands, to the endthat his reputation as a fire-eater might protect it. In any event, hehad had an interest in nipping inquiry in the bud; and, learning whothe Colonel was, had acted on the instant, and with considerablepresence of mind.
The Colonel looked thoughtful; and
though the day was fine forIreland--that is, no more than a small rain was falling--he remainedwithin doors until five minutes before three o'clock. Bale had employedthe interval in brushing the stains of travel from his master'sclothes, and combing his horseman's wig with particular care; so thatit was a neat and spruce gentleman who at five minutes before threewalked through Tralee, and, attending to the directions he hadreceived, approached a particular door, a little within the barrackgate.
Had he glanced up at the windows he would have seen faces at them;moreover, a suspicious ear might have caught, as he paused on thethreshold, a scurrying of feet, mingled with stifled laughter. But hedid not look up. He did not seem to expect to see more than he found,when he entered--a great bare room with its floor strewn with sawdustand its walls adorned here and there by a gaunt trophy of arms. In themiddle of the floor, engaged apparently in weighing one foil againstanother, was a stout, dark-complexioned man, whose light and nimblestep, as he advanced to meet his visitor, gave the lie to his weight.
Certainly there came from a half-opened door at the end of the room astealthy sound as of rats taking cover. But Colonel John did not lookthat way. His whole attention was bent upon the Maitre d'Armes, whobowed low to him. Clicking his heels together, and extending his palmsin the French fashion, "Good-morning, sare," he said, his southernaccent unmistakable. "I make you welcome."
The Colonel returned his salute less elaborately. "The Maitre d'ArmesLemoine?" he said.
"Yes, sare, that is me. At your service!"
"I am a stranger in Tralee, and I have been recommended to apply toyou. You are, I am told, accustomed to give lessons."
"With the small-sword?" the Frenchman answered, with the same gestureof the open hands. "It is my profession."
"I am desirous of brushing up my knowledge--such as it is."
"A vare good notion," the fencing-master replied, his black beady eyestwinkling. "Vare good for me. Vare good also for you. Always ready, isthe gentleman's motto; and to make himself ready, his high recreation.But, doubtless, sare," with a faint smile, "you are proficient, and Iteach you nothing. You come but to sweat a little." An observant personwould have noticed that as he said this he raised his voice above hisusual tone.
"At one time," Colonel John replied with simplicity, "I was fairlyproficient. Then--this happened!" He held out his right hand. "Yousee?"
"Ah!" the Frenchman said in a low tone, and he raised his hands. "Thatis ogly! That is vare ogly! Can you hold with that?" he added,inspecting the hand with interest. He was a different man.
"So, so," the Colonel answered cheerfully.
"Not strongly, eh? It is not possible."
"Not very strongly," the Colonel assented. His hand, like Bale's,lacked two fingers.
Lemoine muttered something under his breath, and looked at the Colonelwith a wrinkled brow. "Tut--tut!" he said, "and how long are you likethat, sare?"
"Seven years."
"Pity! pity!" Lemoine exclaimed. Again he looked at his visitor withperplexed eyes. After which, "Dam!" he said suddenly.
The Colonel stared.
"It is not right!" the Frenchman continued, frowning. "I--no! Pardonme, sare, I do not fence with _les estropies_. That is downright! Thatis certain, sare. I do not do it."
If the Colonel had been listening he might have caught the sound of awarning cough, with a stir, and a subdued murmur of voices--allproceeding from the direction of the inner room. But he had his back tothe half-opened door and he seemed to be taken up with thefencing-master's change of tone. "But if," he objected, "I am willingto pay for an hour's practice?"
"Another day, sare. Another day, if you will."
"But I shall not be here another day. I have but to-day. By-and-by," hecontinued with a smile as kindly as it was humorous, "I shall begin tothink that you are afraid to pit yourself against a _manchot_!"
"Oh, la! la!" The Frenchman dismissed the idea with a contemptuousgesture.
"Do me the favour, then," Colonel John retorted. "If you please?"
Against one of the walls were three chairs arranged in a row. Beforeeach stood a boot-jack, and beside it a pair of boot-hooks; over it,fixed in the wall, were two or three pegs for the occupant's wig,cravat, and cane. The Colonel, without waiting for a further answer,took his seat on one of the chairs, removed his boots, and then hiscoat, vest, and wig, which he hung on the pegs above him.
"And now," he said gaily, as he stood up, "the mask!"
He did not see the change--for he seemed to have no suspicion--but ashe rose, the door of the room behind him became fringed with grinningfaces. Payton, the two youths who had leant from the window of the innand who had carried his words, a couple of older officers, half a dozensubalterns, all were there--and one or two civilians. The more gravecould hardly keep the more hilarious in order. The curtain was ready togo up on what they promised themselves would be the most absurd scene.The stranger who fought no duels, yet thought that a lesson or twowould make him a match for a dead-hand like Payton--was ever such apromising joke conceived? The good feeling, even the respect which theColonel had succeeded in awakening for a short time the evening before,were forgotten in the prospect of such a jest.
The Frenchman made no further demur. He had said what he could, and itwas not his business to quarrel with his best clients. He took hismask, and proffered a choice of foils to his antagonist, whose figure,freed from the heavy coat and vest of the day, and the overshadowingwig, seemed younger and more supple than the Frenchman had expected. "Apity, a pity!" the latter said to himself. "To have lost, if he everwas professor, the joy of life!"
"Are you ready?" Colonel John asked.
"At your service, sare," the Maitre d'Armes replied--but not with muchheartiness. The two advanced each a foot, they touched swords, thensaluted with that graceful and courteous engagement which to anignorant observer is one of the charms of the foil. As they did so, andsteel grated on steel, the eavesdroppers in the inner room venturedsoftly from ambush--like rats issuing forth; soon they were allstanding behind the Colonel, the sawdust, and the fencers' stampingfeet as they lunged or gave back, covering the sound of theirmovements.
They were on the broad grin when they came out. But it took them lessthan a minute to discover that the entertainment was not likely to beso extravagantly funny as they had hoped. The Colonel was not, strictlyspeaking, a tyro; moreover, he had, as he said, a long reach. He was nomatch indeed for Lemoine, who touched him twice in the first bout andmight have touched him thrice had he put forth his strength. But he didnothing absurd. When he dropped his point, therefore, at the end of therally, and, turning to take breath came face to face with the galleryof onlookers, the best-natured of these felt rather foolish. ButColonel John seemed to find nothing surprising in their presence. Hesaluted them courteously with his weapon. "I am afraid I cannot showyou much sport, gentlemen," he said.
One or two muttered something--a good day, or the like. The restgrinned unmeaningly. Payton said nothing, but, folding his arms with asuperior air, leant, frowning haughtily, against the wall.
"_Parbleu_," said Lemoine, as they rested. "It is a pity. The wrist isexcellent, sare. But the pointing finger is not--is not!"
"I do my best," the Colonel answered, with cheerful resignation. "Shallwe engage again?"
"At your pleasure."
The Frenchman's eye no longer twinkled; his gallantry was on itsmettle. He was grave and severe, fixing his gaze on the Colonel'sattack, and remaining blind to the nods and shrugs and smiles ofamusement of his patrons in the background. Again he touched theColonel, and, alas! again; with an ease which, good-natured as he was,he could not mask.
Colonel John, a little breathed, and perhaps a little chagrined also,dropped his point. Some one coughed, and another tittered.
"I think he will need another lesson or two," Payton remarked, speakingostensibly to one of his companions, but loudly enough for all to hear.
The man whom he addressed made an inaudible answer. The Colonel turned
towards them.
"And--a new hand," Payton added in the same tone.
Even for his henchman the remark was almost too much. But the Colonel,strange to say--perhaps he really was very simple--seemed to findnothing offensive in it. On the contrary, he replied to it.
"That was precisely," he said, "what I thought when this"--he indicatedhis maimed hand--"happened to me. And I did my best to procure one."
"Did you succeed?" Payton retorted in an insolent tone.
"To some extent," the Colonel replied, in the most matter-of-factmanner. And he transferred the foil to his left hand.
"Give you four to one," Payton rejoined, "Lemoine hits you twice beforeyou hit him once."
Colonel John had anticipated some of the things that had happened. Buthe had not foreseen this. He was quick to see the use to which he mightput it, and it was only for an instant that he hesitated. Then "Four toone?" he repeated.
"Five, if you like!" Payton sneered.
"If you will wager," the Colonel said slowly, "if you will wager thegrey mare you were riding this morning, sir----"
Payton uttered an angry oath. "What do you mean?" he said.
"Against ten guineas," Colonel John continued carelessly, bending thefoil against the floor and letting it spring to its length again, "Iwill make that wager."
Payton scowled at him. He was aware of the other's interest in themare, and suspected, at least, that he had come to town to recover her.And caution would have had him refuse the snare. But his toadies wereabout him, he had long ruled the roast, to retreat went against thegrain; while to suppose that the man had the least chance againstLemoine was absurd. Yet he hesitated. "What do you know about themare?" he said coarsely.
"I have seen her. But of course, if you are afraid to wager her,sir----"
Payton answered to the spur. "Bah! Afraid?" he cried contemptuously."Done, with you!"
"That is settled," the Colonel replied. "I am at your service," hecontinued, turning to the Maitre d'Armes. "I trust," indicating that hewas going to fence with his left hand, "that this will not embarrassyou?"
"No! But it is interesting, by G--d, it is vare interesting," theFrenchman replied. "I have encountered _les gauchers_ before, and----"
He did not finish the sentence, but saluting, he assumed an attitude alittle more wary than usual. He bent his knees a trifle lower, and heldhis left shoulder somewhat more advanced, as compared with his right.The foils felt one another, and "Oh, va, va!" he muttered. "Iunderstand, the droll!"
For half a minute or so the faces of the onlookers reflected only amild surprise, mingled with curiosity. But the fencers had done littlemore than feel one another's blades, they had certainly not exchangedmore than half a dozen serious passes, before this was changed, beforeone face grew longer and another more intent. A man who was no fencer,and therefore no judge, spoke. A fierce oath silenced him. Anothermurmured an exclamation under his breath. A third stooped low with hishands on his hips that he might not lose a lunge or a parry. ForPayton, his face became slowly a dull red. At length, "Ha!" cried one,drawing in his breath. And he was right. The Maitre d'Armes' button,sliding under the Colonel's blade, had touched his opponent. At once,Lemoine sprang back out of danger, the two points dropped, the twofencers stood back to take breath.
For a few seconds the Colonel's chagrin was plain. He looked, and was,disappointed. Then he conquered the feeling, and he smiled. "I fear youare too strong for me," he said.
"Not at all," the Frenchman made answer. "Not at all! It was fortune,sare. I know not what you were with your right hand, but you are withthe left vare strong, of the first force. It is certain."
Payton, an expert, had been among the earliest to discern, with as muchastonishment as mortification, the Colonel's skill. With a suddensinking of the heart, he had foreseen the figure he would cut ifLemoine were worsted; he had endured a moment of great fear. But atthis success he choked down his apprehensions, and, a sanguine man, hebreathed again. One more hit, one more success on Lemoine's part, andhe had won the wager! But with all he could do he could no longer bearhimself carelessly. Pallid and troubled, he watched, biting his lip;and though he longed to say something cutting, he could think ofnothing. Nay, if it came to that, he could not trust his voice, andwhile he still faltered, seeking for a gibe and finding none, the twocombatants had crossed their foils again. Their tense features, plainthrough the masks, as well as their wary movements, made it clear thatthey played for a victory of which neither was confident.
By this time the rank and file of the spectators had been reinforced bythe arrival of Marsh; who, discovering a scene so unexpected, andquickly perceiving that Lemoine was doing his utmost, wondered whatPayton's thoughts were. Apart from the wager, it was clear that ifLemoine had not met his match, the Captain had; and in the future wouldhave to mend his manners in respect to one person present. Doubtlessmany of those in the room, on whose toes Payton had often trodden, hadthe same idea, and felt secret joy, pleased that the bully of theregiment was like to meet with a reverse and a master.
Whatever their thoughts, a quick rally diverted them, and riveted alleyes on the fencers. For a moment thrust and parry followed one anotherso rapidly that the untrained gaze could not distinguish them or tracethe play. The spectators held their breath, expecting a hit with eachsecond. But the rally died away again, neither of the players had gotthrough the other's guard; and now they fell to it more slowly, theColonel, a little winded, giving ground, and Lemoine pressing him.
Then, no one saw precisely how it happened, whiff-whaff, Lemoine'sweapon flew from his hand and struck the wall with a whirr and ajangle. The fencing-master wrung his wrist. "_Sacre!_" he cried,between his teeth, unable in the moment of surprise to control hischagrin.
The Colonel touched him with his button for form's sake, then steppedrapidly to the wall, picked up the foil by the blade, and courteouslyreturned it to him. Two or three cried "Bravo," but faintly, as barelycomprehending what had happened. The greater part stood silent in sheerastonishment. For Payton, he remained dumb with mortification anddisgust; and if he had the grace to be thankful for anything, he wasthankful that for the moment attention was diverted from him.
Lemoine, indeed, the person more immediately concerned, had only eyesfor his opponent, whom he regarded with a queer mixture of approval andvexation. "You have been at Angelo's school in Paris, sare?" he said,in the tone of one who stated a fact rather than asked a question.
"It is true," the Colonel answered, smiling. "You have guessed it."
"And learned that trick from him?"
"I did. It is of little use except to a left-handed man."
"Yet in play with one not of the first force it succeeds twice out ofthree times," Lemoine answered. "Twice out of three times, with theright hand. _Ma foi!_ I remember it well! I offered the master twentyguineas, Monsieur, if he would teach it me. But because"--he held outhis palms pathetically--"I was right-handed, he would not."
"I am fortunate," Colonel John answered, bowing, and regarding hisopponent with kind eyes, "in being able to requite your good nature. Ishall be pleased to teach it you for nothing, but not now. Gentlemen,"he continued, giving up his foil to Lemoine, and removing his mask,"gentlemen, you will bear me witness, I trust, that I have won thewager?"
Some nodded, some murmured an affirmative, others turned towardsPayton, who, too deeply chagrined to speak, nodded sullenly. Howwillingly at that moment would he have laid the Colonel dead at hisfeet, and Lemoine, and the whole crew, friends and enemies! He gulpedsomething down. "Oh, d--n you!" he said, "I give it you! Take the mare,she's in the stable!"
At that a brother officer touched his arm, and, disregarding hisgesture of impatience, drew him aside. The intervener seemed to bereminding him of something; and the Colonel, not inattentive, andindeed suspicious, caught the name "Asgill" twice repeated. But Paytonwas too angry to care for minor consequences, or to regard anything buthow he might most quickly escape from the scene of defeat and the eyesof thos
e who had witnessed his downfall. He shook off his adviser witha rough hand.
"What do I care?" he answered with an oath. "He must shoe his owncattle!" Then, with a poor show of hiding his spite under a cloak ofinsouciance, he addressed the Colonel. "The mare is yours," he said."You've won her. Much good may she do you!"
And he turned on his heel and went out of the armoury.
The Wild Geese Page 6
