CHAPTER XI. TOO LATE.
The day which followed the events I have mentioned was a sad one to me.The fatigue and the excitement together brought on fever with De Meudon.His head became attacked, and before evening his faculties began towander. All the strange events of his checkered life were mixed up inhis disturbed intellect; and he talked on for hours about Italy, andEgypt, the Tuileries, La Vendee, and Ireland, without ceasing. Theentire of the night he never slept, and the next day the symptomsappeared still more aggravated. The features of his insanity were wilderand less controllable. He lost all memory of me; and sometimes the sightof me at his bedside threw him into most terrific paroxysms of passion;while at others, he would hold my hand for hours together, and seem tofeel my presence as something soothing. His frequent recurrence to thescene in the churchyard showed the deep impression it had made uponhis mind, and how fatally it had influenced the worst symptoms of hismalady.
Thus passed two days and nights. On the third morning, exhaustion seemedto have worn him into a false calm. His wild, staring eye had becomeheavier, his movements less rapid; the spot of color had left his cheek;the mouth was pinched up and rigid; and a flatness of the muscles of theface betokened complete depression. He spoke seldom, and with a voicehoarse and cavernous, but no longer in the tone of wild excitement asbefore. I sat by his bedside still and in silence, my own sad thoughtsmy only company. As it grew later, the sleepless days and nights I hadpassed, and the stillness of the sickroom, overcame me, and I slept.
I awoke with a start; some dreamy consciousness of neglect had flashedacross me, and I sat up. I peeped into the bed, and started back withamazement. I looked again, and there lay De Meudon, on the outside ofthe clothes, dressed in his full uniform,--the green coat and whitefacing, the large gold epaulettes, the brilliant crosses on the breast;his plumed chapeau lay at one side of him, and his sabre at the other.He lay still and motionless. I held the candle near his face, and couldmark a slight smile that curled his cold lip, and gave to his wan andwasted features something of their former expression.
"Oui, mon cher," said he, in a weak whisper, as he took my hand andkissed it, "c'est bien moi." And then added, "It was another of mystrange fancies to put on these once more before I died; and when Ifound you sleeping, I arose and did so. I have changed something since Iwore this last: it was at a ball at Cambaceres."
My joy at hearing him speak once more with full possession of hisreason, was damped by the great change a few hours had worked in hisappearance. His skin was cold and clammy; a gluey moisture rested on hischeek; and his teeth were dark and discolored. A slimy froth, too, wasever rising to his lips as he spoke; while at every respiration hischest heaved and waved like a stormy sea.
"You are thirsty, Charles," said I, stooping over him to wet his lips.
"No," said he, calmly, "I have but one thing which wants relief; it ishere."
He pressed his hand to his heart as he spoke, while such a look ofmisery as crossed his features I never beheld.
"Your heart--"
"Is broken," said he, with a sigh. For some minutes he said nothing,then whispered: "Take my pocket-book from beneath my pillow; yes, that's it. There is a letter you 'll give my sister; you 'll promise methat? Well, the other is for Lecharlier, the _chef_ of the Polytechniqueat Paris; that is for you,--you must be _un eleve_ there. There aresome five or six thousand francs,--it 's all I have now: they are yours;Marie is already provided for. Tell her--But no; she has forgiven melong since,--I feel it. You 'll one day win your grade,--high up; yes,you must do so. Perhaps it may be your fortune to speak with GeneralBonaparte; if so, I beg you say to him, that when Charles de Meudon wasdying, in exile, with but one friend left of all the world, he held thisportrait to his lips, and with his last breath he kissed it."
The fervor of the action drew the blood to his face and temples, whichas suddenly became pale again. A shivering ran through his limbs; aquick heaving of his bosom; a sigh; and all was still. He was dead!
The stunning sense of deep affliction is a mercy from on high. Weakhuman faculties, long strained by daily communing with grief, wouldfall into idiocy were their acuteness not blunted and their perceptionrendered dull. It is for memory to trace back through the mazes ofmisery the object of our sorrow, as the widow searches for the corpse ofhim she loved amid the slain upon the battlefield.
I sat benumbed with sorrow, a vague desire for the breaking day my onlythought. Already the indistinct glimmerings of morning were visible,when I heard the sounds of men marching along the road towards thehouse. I could mark, by the clank of their firelocks and their regularstep, that they were soldiers. They halted at the door of the cabin,whence a loud knocking now proceeded.
"Halloo, there!" said a voice, whose tones seemed to sink into my veryheart; "halloo, Peter! get up and open the door."
"What's the matter?" cried the old man, starting up, and groping his waytowards the door.
The sound of several voices and the noise of approaching footstepsdrowned the reply; and the same instant the door of the little room inwhich I sat opened, and a sergeant entered.
"Sorry to disturb ye, sir," said he, civilly; "but duty can't beavoided. I have a warrant to arrest Captain de Meudon, a French officerthat is concealed here. May I ask where is he?"
I pointed to the bed. The sergeant approached, and by the half-lightcould just perceive the glitter of the uniform, as the body lay shadedby the curtain.
"I arrest you, sir, in the King's name," said he. "Halloo, Kelly! thisis your prisoner, isn't he?"
A head appeared at the door as he spoke; and as the eyes wanderedstealthily round the chamber, I recognized, despite the change of color,the wretch who led the party at the churchyard.
"Come in, damn ye," said the sergeant, impatiently; "what are you afraidfor? Is this your man? Halloo, sir!" said he, shaking the corpse by theshoulder.
"You must call even louder yet," said I, while something like the furyof a fiend was working within me.
"What!" said the sergeant, snatching up the light and holding it withinthe bed. He started back in horror as he did so, and called out, "He isdead!"
Kelly sprang forward at the word, and seizing the candle, held it downto the face of the corpse; but the flame rose as steadily before thosecold lips as though the breath of life had never warmed them.
"I 'll get the reward, anyhow, sergeant, won't I?" said the ruffian,while the thirst for gain added fresh expression to his savage features.
A look of disgust was the only reply he met with, as the sergeant walkedinto the outer room, and whispered something to the man of the house. Atthe same instant the galloping of a horse was heard on the causeway. Itcame nearer and nearer, and ceased suddenly at the door, as a deep voiceshouted out,--
"Well! all right, I hope, sergeant. Is he safe?"
A whispered reply, and a low, muttered sound of two or three voicesfollowed, and Barton--the same man I had seen at the fray in Malone'scabin--entered the room. He approached the bed, and drawing back thecurtains, rudely gazed on the dead man, while over his shoulder peeredthe demoniac countenance of the informer Kelly, his savage featuresworking in anxiety lest his gains should have escaped him.
Barton's eye ranged the little chamber till it fell on me, as I satstill and motionless against the wall. He started slightly, and thenadvancing close, fixed his piercing glance upon me.
"Ha!" cried he, "you here! Well, that is more than I looked for thismorning. I have a short score to settle with you. Sergeant, here 's oneprisoner for you, at any rate."
"Yes," said Kelly, springing forward, "he was at the churchyard with theother; I'll swear to that."
"I think we can do without your valuable aid in this business," saidBarton, smiling maliciously. "Come along, young gentleman; we 'll tryand finish the education that has begun so prosperously."
My eyes involuntarily turned to the table where De Meudon's pistolswere lying. The utter hopelessness of such a contest deterred me not, Isprang towards them; but
as I did so, the strong hand of Barton was onmy collar, and with a hoarse laugh, he threw me against the wall, as hecalled out,--
"Folly, boy! mere folly. You are quite sure of the rope without that.Here, take him off!"
As he spoke, two soldiers seized me on either side, and before a minuteelapsed, pinioned my arms behind my back. In another moment the men fellin, the order was given to march, and I was led away between the files,Kelly following at the rear; while Barton's voice might be heard issuingfrom the cabin, as he gave his orders for the burial of the body, andthe removal of all the effects and papers to the barrack at Glencree.
We might have been about an hour on the road when Barton overtook us.He rode to the head of the party, and handing a paper to the sergeant,muttered some words, among which I could only gather the phrase,"Committed to Newgate;" then, turning round in his saddle, he fixed hiseyes on Kelly, who, like a beast of prey, continued to hang upon thetrack of his victim.
"Well, Dan," cried he, "you may go home again now. I am afraid you 'vegained nothing this time but character."
"Home!" muttered the wretch in a voice of agony; "is it face home afterthis morning's work?"
"And why not, man? Take my word for it, the neighbors will be too muchafraid to meddle with you now."
"Oh, Mister Barton! oh, darling! don't send me back there, for the loveof Heaven! Take me with you!" cried the miserable wretch, in tones ofheart-moving misery.
"Oh, young gentleman," said he, taming towards me, and catching me bythe sleeve, "spake a word for me this day!"
"Don't you think he has enough of troubles of his own to think of, Dan?"said Barton, with a tone of seeming kindliness. "Go back, man; go back!there 's plenty of work before you in this very county. Don't lay yourhand on me, you scoundrel; your touch would pollute a hangman."
The man fell back as if stunned at the sound of these words; his facebecame livid, and his lips white as snow. He staggered a pace or two,like a drunken man, and then stood stock-still, his eyes fixed upon theroad.
"Quick march!" said the sergeant.
The soldiers stepped out again; and as we turned the angle of the road,about a mile farther, I beheld Kelly still standing in the self sameattitude we left him. Barton, after some order to the sergeant, soonleft us, and we continued our march till near nine o'clock, when theparty halted to breakfast. They pressed me to eat with every kindentreaty, but I could taste nothing, and we resumed our road after halfan hour. But the day becoming oppressively hot, it was deemed better todefer our march till near sunset; we stopped, then, during the noon,in a shady thicket near the roadside, where the men, unbuckling theirknapsacks and loosening their stocks, lay down in the deep grass, eitherchatting together or smoking. The sergeant made many attempts to drawme into conversation, but my heart was too full of its own sensationseither to speak or listen; so he abandoned the pursuit with a goodgrace, and betook himself to his pipe at the foot of a tree, where,after its last whiff escaped, he sank into a heavy sleep.
Such of the party as were not disposed for sleep gathered together ina little knot on a small patch of green grass, in the middle of a beechclump, where, having arranged themselves with as much comfort as theplace permitted, they began chatting away over their life and itsadventures pleasantly and freely. I was glad to seek any distractionfrom my own gloomy thoughts in listening to them, as I lay only a fewyards off; but though I endeavored with all my might to attend to andtake interest in their converse, my thoughts always turned to him I hadlost forever,--the first, the only friend I had ever known. All care formyself and what fortune awaited me was merged in my sorrow for him. Ifnot indifferent to my fate, I was at least unmindful of it, and althoughthe words of those near me fell upon my ear, I neither heard nor markedthem.
From this dreamy lethargy I was at last suddenly aroused by the heartybursts of laughter that broke from the party, and a loud clapping ofhands that denoted their applause of something or somebody then beforethem.
"I say, George," said one of the soldiers, "he's a queer 'un, too, thatpiper."
"Yes, he 's a droll chap," responded the other solemnly, as he rolledforth a long curl of smoke from the angle of his mouth.
"Can you play 'Rule Britannia,' then?" asked another of the men.
"No, sir," said a voice I at once knew to be no other than my friendDarby's,--"no, sir. But av the 'Fox's Lament,' or 'Mary's Dream;'wasn't uncongenial to your sentiments, it would be a felicity to me toexpatiate upon the same before yez."
"Eh, Bell," cried a rough voice, "does that beat you now?"
"No," said another, "not a bit. He means he 'll give us something Irishinstead; he don't know 'Rule Britannia! '"
"Not know 'Rule Britannia!' Why, where the devil were you ever bred orborn, man,--eh?"
"Kerry, sir, the kingdom of Kerry, was the nativity of my father;my maternal progenitrix emanated from Clare. Maybe you 've heard theadage,--
"'From Keiry his father, from Clare came his mother; He 's more rogue nor fool on one side and the other.'
Not but that, in my humble individuality, I am an exceptionsillustration of the proverbial catastrophe."
Another shout of rude laughter from his audience followed this speech,amid the uproar of which Darby began tuning his pipes, as if perfectlyunaware that any singularity on his part had called forth the mirth.
"Well, what are we to have, old fellow, after all that confoundedsqueaking and grunting?" said he who appeared the chief spokesman of theparty.
"'Tis a trifling production of my own muse, sir,--a kind ofbiographical, poetical, and categorical dissertation of the delights,devices, and daily doings of your obaydient servant and ever submissiveslave, Darby the Blast."
Though it was evident very little of his eloquent announcement wascomprehended by the party, their laughter was not less ready, and ageneral chorus proclaimed their attention to the song.
Darby accordingly assumed his wonted dignity of port, and having givensome half dozen premonitory flourishes, which certainly had the effectof astonishing and overawing the audience, he began, to the air of "TheNight before Larry was stretched," the following ditty:--
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I Page 12
