CHAPTER X
ALONE AMONG HIS LOVING SUBJECTS
"And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right." --_The Iliad_.
Early one morning a month later, a solemn little group of uniformed menclimbed to the roof of Buena Vista, the imperial wedding gift to MarshalBazaine, and nerving themselves, pulled down the Tricolor. France, aNapoleon, were again leaving the New World. It was Evacuation.
The Army of the Expedition came tramping down the Paseo. There wereheavy Dragoons and Cuirassiers, on majestic chargers. There were lightChasseurs and Lancers, on fleet Arabians that had often provedthemselves against the Mexican pony. There was the clanking of steel,and the flash of helmets through the dust. The imperial eagles, gildedanew, were poised for flight back to their native aeries. Lower in theearthly cloud bobbed the tasseled fez of the bronzed Zouave, and theperky red pompon on the fighting cap of the little piou-piou. With thesteady beat of the march, the pantalons rouges crossed, spread, crossed,spread, like regiments of bright, bloody shears. The bands played. Andyet it was not a martial scene. Feet, not hearts, lifted to the fife'sthrilling note. Nor was the multitude that thronged the wide avenue afiesta populace. It looked on stolidly, without a huzza, yet without ahiss. Enthusiasm in either sense would have been relief, but theMexicans assisting at the bag and baggage of an invader were as unmovedas those other spectators, the colossal figures in the glorietas; as thetwo Aztec giants, leaning on their war clubs; as Guatemotzin, with highfeathered crest and spear aloft, foreboding as in life to the Europeanconqueror; as Columbus, who, having himself suffered, gave now no signof remorse for the blows which this new hemisphere gave the old; asCharles IV. on his iron horse, who had bargained with a former Napoleonto be called Emperor of America, and who, unlike Maximilian, had wiselysurrendered such a crown.
Cavalry, infantry, cannon, wagons, on they came through the city andpast the Zocalo, under the Cathedral towers, under the lifeless,shuttered windows of the Palacio. Here in the Zocalo, in the centralplaza, the sometime first lady of Her Imperial Majesty's household satin her barouche, and opposite her a pretty girl, and she was talkingwith an officer of Chasseurs d'Afrique whose horse was restive, and allthe while there was the rumbling of wheels, the tread of feet, and thering of hoofs.
The sometime first lady was saying good-bye to the officer, as she hadalready to many another gallant chevalier pausing beside her carriage.But for her it was farewell to all her countrymen there, to the littlepiou-pious most of all, and her gray eyes were frankly moist.
"And now they are going," she mused aloud, "really going, because,parbleau, a monsieur in Washington says they must."
"I wish to heaven," swore the young officer gloomily, "some monsieurwould say as much to you! See here, we'd give you and MademoiselleBerthe enough room on the ship for a barracks, if you'd only come.There's a many less welcome," and he jerked his head toward a stream ofvehicles straggling among the troops. They were filled with Mexicanaristocrats whose doubtful titles had been revived by the Empire, alleagerly accepting French transport out of their native land.
Jacqueline laughed. "They're so afraid of the Liberals, they will forgettheir escutcheons. So of course they've forgotten the bouquets. Youshould have seen the garlands, Michel, that heralded our grand entryhere. Oh, la-la! We paid for them ourselves. Thus arrived the DrapeauCivilizateur de la France. And now behold the departure. Not the cost ofa violet to spare from Napoleon's strong chest! He mais, hear that tune!It's 'Leaving for Syria,' the thing decreed into our national hymn. Foronce I'm glad, glad it's not the 'Marseillaise.'"
"Mademoiselle--dear friend," spoke the slow-thinking Michel, "you do notwish to answer my question. Why do you stay behind, alone? Why? Nothinggood ever happens to anyone in this country, and who can tell what mighthappen to you when the army is gone? Come now," he went on, forcing somebluff cheer into his words, "Jeanne d'Aumerle, your friends want you outof it. Fall in with us, here, now. Let me give the order, 'Cocher, aParis!--Voila, what more's to be done?"
Indeed, what more simple? Or more to be desired? Yet there was nothingshe desired less. She thought of what she had found in Mexico, and mustleave behind. It was a dead thing, true, and already buried. But--thegrave was too fresh as yet. However, the real reason for her stayinginvolved something else.
She made no reply, for at the moment a strange voice, with a jaggedMexican accent and a thin insidious inflection, broke in upon them, andstartled them all three.
"Nay, Monsieur le Duc," it began, rolling the title as a morsel on thetongue. "Your Grace would deprive us of too much honor. Why, indeed,should mademoiselle not remain among us?"
Turning quickly, Jacqueline beheld the stranger's black eyes uponherself. He, too, wished to know why she stayed in Mexico, but in hissharp, shifting look there was a penetration quite different from thatof the guileless Michel. He bestrode a magnificent horse that seemedmade for armor, whereas he himself would surely have been crushed underso much as a Crusader's buckler. Being so very small, and perched sovery high, he cut a ludicrously martial figure with his plumed hat andepaulettes and gold buttons and braid and medals and exquisitely mountedsabre. It was not a French uniform that he wore, but Mexican Imperial,and stupendously ornate. And within the brave array, he was such alittle, little man!--insignificance glorified into caricature.
But the pigmy was not altogether on parade. He had that morning beenreceiving arsenals and fortresses from the French; in short, the keys ofthe Empire. For he was Commander in Chief of the Imperial armies, wasthis species of manikin. And ugly? He was a man of lifted upper lipunder a bristling moustache, a man of fangs, a wee, snarling, strutting,odious creature of a man. A deep livid scar split his cheek and wouldnot heal. Instead of arousing sympathy, it proclaimed him rather for thescratches he gave to others. For he was that Mexican of infamous name,the Leopard. Once he had looted the British Legation. Another time hemassacred young medical students attending the wounded of both sides.There were stories of children speared and tossed in ditches. Yetcertain priests blessed his ardor as defender of the Church. Maximilianhad sent him on a mission to Palestine, since he was abhorrent to themoderates. But now he was back again, to lead the clerical armies. Thevalley of Mexico shrank from his brutal proclamation demandingsubmission. "Mexicans, you know me!" so ended the snarl. He gatheredforced loans. He drafted peons, though they were exempt. He emptied theprisons, and convicts he sent in chains as recruits for the Imperialgarrisons. In such a fashion Leonardo Marquez began his duties asgeneralisimo of the Empire.
"Your Excellency is most kind," said Jacqueline, for no other reasonthan to annoy him by changing from French into his own language.
"On the contrary," returned Marquez, "I am flattered that you will behere to observe how we, alone, shall crush the rebels. Your countrymen,senorita, happily leave plenty of them. But I cannot believe that thisis why you remain."
"Make her tell you, then," interposed the helpless Ney. He was utterlyat sea. There was a trial of strength on between these two, but how orfor what was quite beyond him.
Jacqueline pushed back the Persian shawl she wore--this fifth day ofFebruary was the Mexican springtime--and settled herself to the contestin earnest. "I fear," she began slowly, "that my motive in staying canhardly be intelligible, unless, perhaps, Your Excellency knows why Icame to Mexico in the first place. No senor, that blank smile of yourswill not serve. Your Excellency cannot feign ignorance of publicgossip."
"Of course, I have heard that----"
"To be sure you have," she returned dryly, "and you might add that Ifailed, since Maximilian has not yet abdicated. But Your Excellency isnot one to imagine that the end can be long delayed."
She, too, was searching for a motive, his motive in the interview.
"The Mexicans alone will sustain our patriotic ruler," stoutly declaredthe generalisimo. "But let us suppose, merely for pastime, that HisMajesty does abdicate. What then? What profit to France, since at thismoment, before our ey
es, her army is leaving?"
Jacqueline smoothed the ruffled pleats on her full gray skirt. Theylooked like an exaggerated railroad on a map, and doubtless neededsmoothing.
"And remotely supposing," she said, "that our army _might_ comeback again?"
Then, in a flash, she raised her eyes, and surprised the start he gave.But she laughed at once, and at him, for taking her nonsense as serious.
"No," she exclaimed, "Your Excellency can more easily recall Santa Annafrom his island exile."
This, too, was nonsense, or so he was forced to consider it. But knowingthat the Empire could not endure, he was believed even then to benegotiating with the rich former dictator. In his scowl Jacquelinediscovered what she sought. He wanted, in brief, to negotiate withNapoleon also, and he wanted to negotiate through her. Napoleon couldbid higher than Santa Anna. She saw, moreover, what was worrying thetraitor. If Napoleon did not mean to bid, why then was she staying inMexico?
Marquez glanced fretfully at Ney and Berthe. If he might be honored inthe privilege of calling to pay his respects?----
But Jacqueline regretted that she was to be too much occupied inpreparations for her own early departure. And that very evening she senta note to Maximilian, frankly warning him against the Leopard. But shewarned His Majesty farther, that if he did not heed, that when it shouldbe too late to save him in any case, and Marquez still had something tosell, that then she would advise her own emperor, should her own emperorwish to buy. Hoping, though, for the best, she sent by Ney a message toBazaine at the head of the column, suggesting that he delay embarkationas long as possible. She had in mind Maximilian awakened to thefaithlessness of his chief support and wishing to overtake the Frenchtroops.
For which it appears that Jacqueline still wielded a free lance,belonging to her own country alone and owning no master other than herown conscience.
As Bazaine at the army's head rode through the Zocalo, he looked up tofind the palatial shutters closed. The Mexican Empire was sulking like aspiteful child. The marshal wearily shrugged his shoulders, and thoughton the ingratitude of princes. But the silence of the Palace was only apose, mean and despicable. Maximilian himself was peeping through theshutters down upon the gallant, moving sea of color. It was a stream ofgleaming bayonets, of champing horses, of lumbering artillery. His eyeswould single out and cling to this or that figure till it was lost inthe street beyond, and then he would try to realize that it was lost tohim forever. For the street beyond lay toward the coast, where manyships awaited. The archducal petulance gave way to vague melancholy.
Finally he looked upon the last swinging foot, then at the dustsettling. Below, in the Zocalo, what had been a fringe of mourningaround the troops, became a scurrying of human creatures. They were hissubjects. Not a French uniform remained, but the prince sighed heavilyas he turned from his ignoble peep-hole. Courtiers and counselorsglanced at each other significantly. By tacit consent one among themspoke.
"Free at last, sire, free at last! Ah, see them, there below. They knowtheir shackles are broken, they know that the foreign invader whochilled their allegiance is gone. Nay more, their loyalty has alreadyborne fruit. In the north, sire----"
"How, father? You do not mean----"
"Yes, sire, yes, the mother of God be praised! I mean victory, and deathto many traitors. The news has just come. Miramon has won a decisivebattle and taken Zacatecas."
"Zacatecas! But Juarez was there?"
"Yes, sire, and Miramon entered so suddenly the arch rebel surely couldnot have escaped."
"Juarez taken, that man taken!"
"Even so, sire, And"--Fischer's interlaced fingers tightened until theveins grew large--"and, it only remains for Your Majesty to dispose ofhim, according to the law."
Maximilian trembled with joy. He was master of the situation. His peoplehad made him master. Here was divine right vindicated. It was--Destiny!He had but to follow whither the heavenly finger pointed. And inrapture, he seized his pen.
Palace of Mexico, Feb. 5th, 1867.
My dear General Miramon:
I charge you particularly, in case you do capture Don Benito Juarez, Don Sebastian Lerdo de Tejado, and others of his suite, to have them tried and condemned by a council of war ... but the sentence is not to be executed before receiving Our approbation.... Your affectionate Maximiliano.
Bazaine and the French camped the first night, the next day, and yetanother night outside the City, waiting. They did not reach Puebla untilthe tenth. The rear guard fell farther and farther behind, keeping theroad open. At last there was news. Juarez had escaped Miramon atZacatecas, warned in time through some mysterious agency. And farther,Miramon had encountered another Republican army, by whom he was not onlydefeated, but routed completely. In panic he was fleeing to Queretero.
"Maximilian must surely abdicate now," thought Bazaine, and he sent backa message. "I can," he wrote, "yet extend a hand to His Majesty to helphim retire."
In Vera Cruz the marshal waited for an answer. Day after day passed, andthen the answer came. Too late, was its refrain. Maximilian had left hiscapital with what troops he could spare. He had left for Queretero, tojoin Miramon there.
Bazaine, the last to quit the shore, climbed aboard his ship, and takingone final look for a chance horseman with word to wait yet longer, andseeing none, gave the order to weigh anchor.
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