CAPTAIN BARECOLT'S STORY.
"There is a little town called Le Catelet, just upon the Frenchfrontier, which was besieged by the Spanish army, after the French hadtaken it and held it for about a year. The attack began in the winter,and a number of honourable gentlemen threw themselves into it, to aidin the defence as volunteers. Amongst the rest were two friends whohad fought in a good many battles together. One was called theViscount de Boulaye, and the other the Capitaine la Vacherie. Everyday there were skirmishes and sallies, and one night when they weresitting drinking and talking together, after a very murderous sortie,Capitaine la Vacherie said to his friend--
"'How cold those poor fellows must be whom we left dead in thetrenches to-day!'
"'Ay, that they must!' said Boulaye; 'and 'pon my life, La Vacherie, Iam glad the place is so full that you and I have but one room and onebed between us, otherwise I know not how we should keep ourselveswarm.'
"'Nor I either,' replied La Vacherie. 'Mind, Boulaye, if I am some dayleft in the trenches, you come and look for me, and bring me out ofthe cold wind.'
"He spoke laughing, and the viscount answered in the same way--
"'That I will, La Vacherie; don't you be afraid.'
"Well, about a fortnight after, the Spaniards attempted to storm theplace; but they were driven back, after fighting for near an hour, andBoulaye and La Vacherie, with the regiment of Champagne, pursued themto their entrenchments. Boulaye got back, safe and sound, to the townjust as it was growing dark, and went to the governor's house, talkedfor an hour over the assault, and then returned to his room, and askedhis servant if Capitaine la Vacherie had come back. The man answeredNo; and so Boulaye swore that he would be hanged if he would wait forhis supper. When supper came and La Vacherie did not, the viscountbegan to think, 'I should not wonder if that poor devil, La Vacherie,had left his bones outside;' and after he had eaten two or threemouthfuls, and drunk a glass or two of wine, he sent the servant tothe quarters of the regiment of Champagne, to see if he could hearanything of his friend. But the servant could find no one who knewanything of him; and when he came back, he found the viscount sittingwith the table and the wine upon his right hand, and his feet upon thetwo andirons, with a warm fire of wood blazing away before him. Whenhe told him that he could learn nothing, Boulaye exclaimed--.
"'_Sacrement!_ I dare say he is dead: poor fellow, I am very sorry;'and he filled himself another glass of wine, and kept his foot on theandirons. In about half-an-hour more he went to bed, and, just as hewas getting comfortable and beginning to doze, seeing the fireflickering against the wall one minute and not seeing it the next, heheard a step upon the stairs, and instantly recollected La Vacherie's,who came up singing and talking just as usual.
"'Ah!' cried he, 'La Vacherie, is that you? I thought you had beenkilled!'
"'The deuce you did, Boulaye,' replied La Vacherie; and he began tomove about the bottles and glasses as if he were feeling for a candleto light it.
"'Well, don't make a noise, there's a good man,' said Boulaye; 'for Iam tired, and have a good deal to do tomorrow.'
"'I'm sure so have I,' replied La Vacherie, 'so I will go to bed atonce.'
"'Had you not better have some supper?' asked the viscount.
"'No,' replied his friend; 'I've had all the supper I want;' andaccordingly he pulled off his clothes and lay down beside his comrade.But by that time the viscount was asleep, so that they had no furtherconversation that night. The next morning when Viscount de Boulayeawoke, he found that La Vacherie had already risen, and left hisnightcap upon the pillow, and he did not see him again till night, forthe enemy made several fierce attacks, and all the troops of thegarrison were busy till sunset. Well, he supped alone that night asbefore, and just as he got into bed, he heard La Vacherie's stepagain, and again he came in, and again he would eat no supper, butwent to bed as before. The viscount, however, did not sleep so easilythis night, for he thought there was something odd about his friend.So after lying for about half-an-hour, he said, 'La Vacherie, are youasleep?'
"'Not yet,' replied La Vacherie; 'but I shall soon be so.'
"'Well, I want to ask you something,' said Boulaye, turning himselfsharp round, and as he did so, his hand came against La Vacherie's. Itwas like a bit of ice!
"'Why, how cold you are!' cried the viscount.
"'And how can you expect me to be otherwise,' replied La Vacherie, ina terrible voice, 'when you left me out there in the trenches throughtwo long January nights?' and that moment he jumped out of bed, threwopen the window, and went off. His body was found next morning wherehe had been killed two days before."
Arrah Neil was silent; but Falgate, who, while riding on at his slowpace had kept one ear always open to his companion's story, turnedround and asked, "But what became of the viscount?"
"Why, when the town capitulated," replied Barecolt, "he went into aCapuchin convent, and was called Father Henry.--But, hark! There isthe sound of a trumpet, by the Lord Harry! Gallop, Falgate! gallop! orI'll drive my sword through you!" and at the same time he drew theweapon and pricked forward the horse of his companion with the point.
The Galloway, for it deserved no higher title, started on, lashing outbehind in a manner that had nearly sent the poor painter out of thesaddle and over its head; but when once the beast had fairly startedin a gallop, Falgate found his seat much more comfortable than at atrot; and away the whole party went at full speed over hill and dalefor about a mile and a half, when suddenly, to Barecolt's surprise,the sound of a trumpet was again heard upon his left nearer thanbefore. After pausing for a moment to listen, he made up his mind thatwhatever body of men were near, they did not come from the side ofHull; but judging that when escorting treasure or a lady he shouldbest show his valour by discretion, the renowned captain turned sharpoff from the high-road down a lane to his right, and after having gonerather more than one mile in that direction, through pleasant rows oftrees, without hearing any more of the sounds which had alarmed him,he pulled up at a house, from the front of which a pole bearing agarland protruded over the road, indicating that some sort ofentertainment would there be found for way-faring travellers.
"We will here water our horses, Mistress Arrah," he said; "and keepingin mind that we may not find loyal subjects in every house, we willrefresh the inner man with gravity and moderation;" and assuming a sadand sanctimonious air, he addressed a dry-looking man who presentedhimself, asking if they could obtain wherewithal to strengthenthemselves for their further journey. A ready affirmative was given,and, aiding Arrah Neil from her horse, Barecolt led her in, and then,never forgetting his military habits, returned to see that the beastswere taken care of. The landlord followed him out, and the worthycaptain continued to eye him with a considerate glance as he aided inwashing the horses' mouths and taking out their bits. By the time thiswas accomplished, Barecolt's opinion of his companion was completelyformed, and when the latter remarked, "You seem to have been ridingvery bard, master," he replied in a solemn tone, much to theastonishment of Diggory Falgate--
"Yea, verily have we, for the sound of a trumpet met our ears, and wefeared, being few in number, to fall in with a party of the swaggeringmalignants who we hear are riding about the country. Wilt thou get thehorses, little corn, my friend?"
"Right willingly, master," replied the host; "I see thou art a godlyman, and I am glad to serve thee."
The moment he was gone, Barecolt whispered to Falgate, who hadremained silent, partly from fatigue and partly from surprise, "Wemust cozen the crop-eared knave. Whine, cant, and look devout, MasterFalgate, and forget your swagger if you can."
"By St. Winifred!" replied Falgate, "this rough beast has taken allthe swagger out of me. I can hardly stand, captain."
"Well, get thee in," replied Barecolt, "and leave me to deal with him.The best thing for thee to do is to hold thy tongue, for if thou onceopenest thy mouth we shall see some profane saint or other poppingout, and marking thee for a malignant in a minute."
"Now let us to our meat," said Barecolt, "for we must soon be on ourway again."
Falgate was instantly settling himself upon a stool to fall to,without further ceremony; but the captain gave him a grave admonishinglook, and standing before the table with his clasped hands resting onhis stomach, and the two thumbs elevated towards his chin, began agrace which had well nigh exhausted the patience of Falgate before itwas done, but which greatly edified the master of the house. Afterthis was concluded, they all sat down to meat; and Barecolt, who wellknew that the portion of good things which the saintly men of his dayallotted themselves was by no means small, carved away at the jointswithout any modesty, and loaded his own plate amongst others with amess sufficient for an ogre.
Alas for the brief period of mundane felicity! Scarcely had threemouthfuls passed between Ins grinders, scarcely had one deep draughtfrom the foaming tankard wetted his lips, when the sound of manyhorses' feet was heard, and the next instant the detestable blast ofthe trumpet was once more heard before the door. The landlord, who, aswas then very customary, had sat down to share the meal prepared forhis guests, started up, and ran out to the door, while Barecoltquietly approached the window and looked forth; then returning to thetable, he whispered in a low voice to Diggory Falgate and Arrah Neil,"A party of the drunken tapsters and pimpled-nosed serving-men whomthe roundhead rebels call cavalry. Master Falgate, be as silent as achurch mouse, I command you, and answer not more than a monosyllable,whatever is asked you."
"Are they from Hull?" demanded Arrah Neil, in a tone of alarm, asBarecolt resumed his seat and began to eat.
"No, I think not," replied the gallant captain; "but we shall soon see,for here come some of them along the passage;" and as he spoke the dooropened, giving admission to a stout, short-set man in a well-worn buffcoat.
Arrah Neil; or, Times of Old Page 27
