Complete Works of Stephen Crane

by Stephen Crane

  But hold! might it not be that the gentle Lady Mary, deprecating this duel and filled with feelings of humanity, had sent us each a note with this fervid cry for God to spare us? I was forced to concede it possible. After all, I perfectly well knew that to Lady Mary I was a mere nothing. Royale’s words had been so many plumes in my life’s helmet, but at bottom I knew better than to set great store by them. The whole thing was now to hurry to the duelling-ground and see if I could discover from this black Forister’s face if he had received a “God spare you!” I took the Colonel’s arm and fairly dragged him.

  “Damme, O’Ruddy!” said he, puffing; “this can be nought but genuine eagerness.”

  When we came to the duelling-place we found Lord Strepp and Forister pacing to and fro, while the top of a near-by wall was crowded with pleasant-minded spectators. “Aye, you’ve come, have ye, sirs?” called out the rabble. Lord Strepp seemed rather annoyed, and Colonel Royale grew red and stepped peremptorily toward the wall, but Forister and I had eyes only for each other. His eye for me was a glad, cruel eye. I have a dim remembrance of seeing the Colonel take his scabbard and incontinently beat many worthy citizens of Bristol; indeed, he seemed to beat every worthy citizen of Bristol who had not legs enough to get away. I could hear them squeaking out protests while I keenly studied the jubilant Forister.

  Aye, it was true. He too had a “God spare you!” I felt my blood begin to run hot. My eyes suddenly cleared as if I had been empowered with miraculous vision. My arm became supple as a whip. I decided upon one thing. I would kill Forister.

  I thought the Colonel never would give over chasing citizens, but at last he returned breathless, having scattered the populace over a wide stretch of country. The preliminaries were very simple. In a half-minute Forister and I, in our shirts, faced each other.

  And now I passed into such a state of fury that I cannot find words to describe it; but, as I have said, I was possessed with a remarkable clearness of vision and strength of arm. These phenomena amaze me even at this day. I was so airy upon my feet that I might have been a spirit. I think great rages work thus upon some natures. Their competence is suddenly made manifold. They live, for a brief space, the life of giants. Rage is destruction active. Whenever anything in this world needs to be destroyed, nature makes somebody wrathful. Another thing that I recall is that I had not the slightest doubt of my ability to kill Forister. There were no more misgivings: no quakings. I thought of the impending duel with delight.

  In all my midnight meditations upon the fight I had pictured myself as lying strictly upon the defensive and seeking a chance opportunity to damage my redoubtable opponent. But the moment after our swords had crossed I was an absolute demon of attack. My very first lunge made him give back a long pace. I saw his confident face change to a look of fierce excitement.

  There is little to say of the flying, spinning blades. It is only necessary to remark that Forister dropped almost immediately to defensive tactics before an assault which was not only impetuous but exceedingly brilliant, if I may be allowed to say so. And I know that on my left a certain Colonel Royale was steadily growing happier.

  The end came with an almost ridiculous swiftness. The feeling of an ugly quivering wrench communicated itself from the point of my sword to my mind; I heard Strepp and Royale cry “Hold!” I saw Forister fall; I lowered my point and stood dizzily thinking. My sight was now blurred; my arm was weak.

  My sword had gone deep into Forister’s left shoulder, and the bones there had given that hideous feeling of a quivering wrench. He was not injured beyond repair, but he was in exquisite agony. Before they could reach him he turned over on his elbows and managed in some way to fling his sword at me. “Damn your soul!” he cried, and he gave a sort of howl as Lord Strepp, grim and unceremonious, bounced him over again upon his back. In the mean time Colonel Royale was helping me on with my coat and waistcoat, although I hardly knew that either he or the coat or waistcoat were in existence.

  I had my usual inclination to go forward and explain to everybody how it all had happened. But Royale took me forcibly by the arm, and we turned our backs on Strepp and Forister and walked toward the inn.

  As soon as we were out of their sight, Colonel Royale clasped my hands with rapture. “My boy,” he cried, “you are great! You are renowned! You are illustrious! What a game you could give Ponsonby! You would give him such a stir!”

  “Never doubt me,” said I. “But I am now your legitimate grandfather, and I should be treated with great respect.”

  When we came near the inn I began to glance up at the windows. I surely expected to see a face at one of them. Certainly she would care to know who was slain or who was hurt. She would be watching, I fondly hoped, to see who returned on his legs. But the front of the inn stared at us, chilly and vacant, like a prison wall.

  When we entered, the Colonel bawled lustily for an immediate bottle of wine, and I joined him in its drinking, for I knew that it would be a bellows to my flagging spirits. I had set my heart upon seeing a face at the window of the inn.

  CHAPTER X

  And now I found out what it was to be a famous swordsman. All that day the inn seemed to hum with my name. I could not step down a corridor without seeing flocks of servants taking wing. They fled tumultuously. A silly maid coming from a chamber with a bucket saw me and shrieked. She dropped her bucket and fled back into the chamber. A man-servant saw me, gave a low moan of terror, and leaped down a convenient stairway. All attendants scuttled aside.

  What was the matter with me? Had I grown in stature or developed a ferocious ugliness? No; I now was a famous swordsman. That was all. I now was expected to try to grab the maids and kiss them wantonly. I now was expected to clout the grooms on their ears if they so much as showed themselves in my sight. In fact, I was now a great blustering, overpowering, preposterous ass.

  There was a crowd of people in the coffee-room, but the buzz of talk suddenly ceased as I entered.

  “Is this your chair, sir?” said I civilly to a gentleman.

  He stepped away from the chair as if it had tried to bite him.

  “’Tis at your service, sir!” he cried hastily.

  “No,” said I, “I would not be taking it if it be yours, for there are just as good chairs in the sea as ever were caught, and it would ill become me to deprive a gentleman of his chair when by exercising a little energy I can gain one for myself, although I am willing to admit that I have a slight hunger upon me. ’Tis a fine morning, sir.”

  He had turned pale and was edging toward the door. “’Tis at your service, sir,” he repeated in a low and frightened voice. All the people were staring at us.

  “No, good sir,” I remonstrated, stepping forward to explain. “I would not be having you think that I am unable to get a chair for myself, since I am above everything able and swift with my hands, and it is a small thing to get a chair for one’s self and not deprive a worthy gentleman of his own.”

  “I did not think to deprive you, sir,” he ejaculated desperately. “The chair is at your service, sir!”

  “Plague the man!” I cried, stamping my foot impatiently; and at the stamping of my foot a waiter let fall a dish, some women screamed, three or four people disappeared through the door, and a venerable gentleman arose from his seat in a corner and in a tremulous voice said:

  “Sir, let us pray you that there be no bloodshed.”

  “You are an old fool,” said I to him. “How could there be bloodshed with me here merely despising you all for not knowing what I mean when I say it.”

  “We know you mean what you say, sir,” responded the old gentleman. “Pray God you mean peaceably!”

  “Hoity-toity!” shouted a loud voice, and I saw a great, tall, ugly woman bearing down upon me from the doorway. “Out of my way,” she thundered at a waiter. The man gasped out: “Yes, your ladyship!”

  I was face to face with the mother of my lovely Mary.

  “Hoity-toity!” she shouted at me again. “A bra
wler, eh? A lively swordster, hey? A real damn-my-eyes swaggering bully!”

  Then she charged upon me. “How dare you brawl with these inoffensive people under the same roof which shelters me, fellow? By my word, I would have pleasure to give you a box on the ear!”

  “Madam,” I protested hurriedly. But I saw the futility of it. Without devoting further time to an appeal, I turned and fled. I dodged behind three chairs and moved them hastily into a rampart.

  “Madam,” I cried, feeling that I could parley from my new position, “you labour under a misapprehension.”

  “Misapprehend me no misapprehensions,” she retorted hotly. “How dare you say that I can misapprehend anything, wretch?”

  She attacked each flank in turn, but so agile was I that I escaped capture, although my position in regard to the chairs was twice reversed. We performed a series of nimble manoeuvres which were characterized on my part by a high degree of strategy. But I found the rampart of chairs an untenable place. I was again obliged hurriedly to retreat, this time taking up a position behind a large table.

  “Madam,” I said desperately, “believe me, you are suffering under a grave misapprehension.”

  “Again he talks of misapprehension!”

  We revolved once swiftly around the table; she stopped, panting.

  “And this is the blusterer! And why do you not stand your ground, coward?”

  “Madam,” said I with more coolness now that I saw she would soon be losing her wind, “I would esteem it very ungallant behaviour if I endured your attack for even a brief moment. My forefathers form a brave race which always runs away from the ladies.”

  After this speech we revolved twice around the table. I must in all candour say that the Countess used language which would not at all suit the pages of my true and virtuous chronicle; but indeed it was no worse than I often heard afterward from the great ladies of the time. However, the talk was not always addressed to me, thank the Saints!

  After we had made the two revolutions, I spoke reasonably. “Madam,” said I, “if we go spinning about the table in this fashion for any length of time, these gawking spectators will think we are a pair of wheels.”

  “Spectators!” she cried, lifting her old head high. She beheld about seventy-five interested people. She called out loudly to them:

  “And is there no gentleman among you all to draw his sword and beat me this rascal from the inn?”

  Nobody moved.

  “Madam,” said I, still reasonable, “would it not be better to avoid a possible scandal by discontinuing these movements, as the tongues of men are not always fair, and it might be said by some—”

  Whereupon we revolved twice more around the table.

  When the old pelican stopped, she had only enough breath left to impartially abuse all the sight-seers. As her eye fixed upon them, The O’Ruddy, illustrious fighting-man, saw his chance and bolted like a hare. The escape must have formed a great spectacle, but I had no time for appearances. As I was passing out of the door, the Countess, in her disappointed rage, threw a heavy ivory fan after me, which struck an innocent bystander in the eye, for which he apologized.

  CHAPTER XI

  I wasted no time in the vicinity of the inn. I decided that an interval spent in some remote place would be consistent with the behaviour of a gentleman.

  But the agitations of the day were not yet closed for me. Suddenly I came upon a small, slow-moving, and solemn company of men, who carried among them some kind of a pallet, and on this pallet was the body of Forister. I gazed upon his ghastly face; I saw the large blood blotches on his shirt; as they drew nearer I saw him roll his eyes and heard him groan. Some of the men recognized me, and I saw black looks and straight-pointing fingers. At the rear walked Lord Strepp with Forister’s sword under his arm. I turned away with a new impression of the pastime of duelling. Forister’s pallor, the show of bloody cloth, his groan, the dark stares of men, made me see my victory in a different way, and I even wondered if it had been absolutely necessary to work this mischief upon a fellow-being.

  I spent most of the day down among the low taverns of the sailors, striving to interest myself in a thousand new sights brought by the ships from foreign parts.

  But ever my mind returned to Lady Mary, and to my misfortune in being pursued around chairs and tables by my angel’s mother. I had also managed to have a bitter quarrel with the noble father of this lovely creature. It was hardly possible that I could be joyous over my prospects.

  At noon I returned to the inn, approaching with some display of caution. As I neared it, a carriage followed by some horsemen whirled speedily from the door. I knew at once that Lady Mary had been taken from me. She was gone with her father and mother back to London. I recognized Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale among the horsemen.

  I walked through the inn to the garden, and looked at the parrot. My senses were all numb. I stared at the bird as it rolled its wicked eye at me.

  “Pretty lady! Pretty lady!” it called in coarse mockery.

  “Plague the bird!” I muttered, as I turned upon my heel and entered the inn.

  “My bill,” said I. “A horse for Bath!” said I.

  Again I rode forth on a quest. The first had been after my papers. The second was after my love. The second was the hopeless one, and, overcome by melancholy, I did not even spur my horse swiftly on my mission. There was upon me the deep-rooted sadness which balances the mirth of my people, — the Celtic aptitude for discouragement; and even the keening of old women in the red glow of the peat fire could never have deepened my mood.

  And if I should succeed in reaching London, what then? Would the wild savage from the rocky shore of Ireland be a pleasing sight to my Lady Mary when once more amid the glamour and whirl of the fashionable town? Besides, I could no longer travel on the guineas of Jem Bottles. He had engaged himself and his purse in my service because I had told him of a fortune involved in the regaining of certain papers. I had regained those papers, and then coolly placed them as a gift in a certain lovely white hand. I had had no more thought of Jem Bottles and his five guineas than if I had never seen them. But this was no excuse for a gentleman. When I was arrived at the rendezvous I must immediately confess to Jem Bottles, the highwayman, that I had wronged him. I did not expect him to demand satisfaction, but I thought he might shoot me in the back as I was riding away.

  But Jem was not at the appointed place under the tree. Not puzzled at this behaviour, I rode on. I saw I could not expect the man to stay for ever under a tree while I was away in Bristol fighting a duel and making eyes at a lady. Still, I had heard that it was always done.

  At the inn where Paddy holed Forister, I did not dismount, although a hostler ran out busily. “No,” said I. “I ride on.” I looked at the man. Small, sharp-eyed, weazened, he was as likely a rascal of a hostler as ever helped a highwayman to know a filled purse from a man who was riding to make arrangements with his creditors.

  “Do you remember me?” said I.

  “No, sir,” he said with great promptitude.

  “Very good,” said I. “I knew you did. Now I want to know if Master Jem Bottles has passed this way to-day. A shilling for the truth and a thrashing for a lie.”

  The man came close to my stirrup. “Master,” he said, “I know you to be a friend of him. Well, in day-time he don’t ride past our door. There be lanes. And so he ain’t passed here, and that’s the truth.”

  I flung him a shilling. “Now,” I said, “what of the red giant?”

  The man opened his little eyes in surprise. “He took horse with you gentlemen and rode on to Bristol, or I don’t know.”

  “Very good; now I see two very fine horses champing in the yard. And who owns them?”

  If I had expected to catch him in treachery I was wrong.

  “Them?” said he, jerking his thumb. He still kept his voice lowered. “They belong to two gentlemen who rode out some hours agone along with some great man’s carriage. The officer said some pin-pri
cks he had gotten in a duel had stiffened him, and made the saddle ill of ease with him, and the young lord said that he would stay behind as a companion. They be up in the Colonel’s chamber, drinking vastly. But mind your life, sir, if you would halt them on the road. They be men of great spirit. This inn seldom sees such drinkers.”

  And so Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale were resting at this inn while the carriage of the Earl had gone on toward Bath? I had a mind to dismount and join the two in their roystering, but my eyes turned wistfully toward Bath.

  As I rode away I began to wonder what had become of Jem Bottles and Paddy. Here was a fine pair to be abroad in the land. Here were two jewels to be rampaging across the country. Separately, they were villains enough, but together they would overturn England and get themselves hung for it on twin gibbets. I tried to imagine the particular roguery to which they would first give their attention.

  But then all thought of the rascals faded from me as my mind received a vision of Lady Mary’s fair face, her figure, her foot. It would not be me to be thinking of two such thieves when I could be dreaming of Lady Mary with her soft voice and the clear depth of her eyes. My horse seemed to have a sympathy with my feeling and he leaped bravely along the road. The Celtic melancholy of the first part of the journey had blown away like a sea-mist. I sped on gallantly toward Bath and Lady Mary.

  But almost at the end of the day, when I was within a few miles of Bath, my horse suddenly pitched forward onto his knees and nose. There was a flying spray of muddy water. I was flung out of the saddle, but I fell without any serious hurt whatever. We had been ambushed by some kind of deep-sided puddle. My poor horse scrambled out and stood with lowered head, heaving and trembling. His soft nose had been cut between his teeth and the far edge of the puddle. I led him forward, watching his legs. He was lamed. I looked in wrath and despair back at the puddle, which was as plain as a golden guinea on a platter. I do not see how I could have blundered into it, for the daylight was still clear and strong. I had been gazing like a fool in the direction of Bath. And my Celtic melancholy swept down upon me again, and even my father’s bier appeared before me with the pale candle-flames swaying in the gusty room, and now indeed my ears heard the loud wailing keen of the old women.