by Leo Perutz
"He must hang," he said. "A pity, for he's a fool of the entertaining sort. He knows an abundance of extremely lewd jests, and I've more than once laughed myself sick at him. Adieu, Jochberg, I'm off to my quarters. The colonel has placed me under arrest."
"Yes, by the grace of God Almighty and Christ and his saints," the priest sighed with wholehearted sincerity.
"Leave Christ and his saints out of this!" cried Brockendorf, stung that the priest should have rendered thanks to God for his punishment. "Words like those sit ill on the lips of a rebel."
I myself upbraided him for having provoked the insurrection, but he rejected my rebuke.
"The sole reason for all this pandemonium," he declared, "is that the Spaniards have taken their quadruples and gold onzas, and whatever else they call ducats in this accursed land, and hidden them beneath the flagstones of the church, and now they're afraid I may unearth them. Oh, they're cunning foxes, these Spaniards!"
He released my arm at last, and I ran up the steps. My first glance on entering the orderly-room was directed at the colonel.
He was standing at Günther's bedside, just as I had left him. His face still wore a look of brooding expectancy from which I inferred that our secret had not yet come out. Heedless of the uproar in the streets, he continued to stand listening to the confessions of a man in delirium and striving to interpret his confused hallucinations.
Günther's condition had worsened — indeed, the end seemed imminent — but his lips were still moving. He talked incessantly in short, disjointed snatches while the breath hissed and rattled in his throat. His cheeks and forehead were flushed, his lips parched and cracked. Sometimes muttering, sometimes crying aloud, he was speaking when I entered of some love affair unknown to me.
"If you go to the window and whistle once, the stable-boy will come. You must whistle twice - that will summon the pretty young maidservant ..."
"What is he saying?" I asked Eglofstein in a low voice.
In lieu of a reply, he took my arm and drew me away from the bed.
"You were gone a long time," he whispered hurriedly. "Now do as I say. Ask no questions, just obey!" Aloud, he went on, "Lieutenant Jochberg, somewhere among our regimental papers I have mislaid an order from the chief of staff relating to the imbursement of arrears of pay. Go through the correspondence of the last few months and read me out each letter and dispatch in order of receipt."
I grasped his intention at once. I was to read aloud to such effect that the colonel would be unable to hear the dying man's tell-tale remarks. Picking up the sheaf of papers which Eglofstein passed across the desk, I began to read.
It was a peculiar situation in which to find myself. As I read, the whole campaign unfolded before my mind's eye, with its trials and tribulations, its battles and hardships, its adventures and dangers, yet the sole purpose of this proceeding was to drown a dying man's last words.
"Order dated 11th September," I declaimed. "Colonel! It being the desire of His Majesty the Emperor that troops in cantonments be no less well-treated than those in camp, he commands that every man should be daily issued with 16 ounces of meat, 24 ounces of fresh bread, 6 ounces of bread for soup, and —"
"Those swinish brutes of the Hessian Regiment!" cried Günther, rearing up wildly in his bed. "They sleep together, may heaven forgive them!"
"The next letter," Eglofstein said swiftly. "That was not the one I meant."
"Letter dated 14th December and delivered by Second- Lieutenant Durette of the divisional staff," I went on. "Marshal Soult desires you, Colonel, to draft a report on the fortress of La Bisbal as soon as you have occupied it. How many cannon will be required —"
"Welcome, beloved, welcome!" Günther broke in hoarsely. I flinched and faltered.
"Louder, for God's sake!" Eglofstein whispered in my ear. "Louder, in heaven's name!"
"How many cannon will be required to defend it adequately?" My voice rose almost to a shout, and the words on the paper danced a fandango before my eyes. "Does it have water, large open spaces, substantial buildings? Will it lend itself to the construction of depots, bakehouses, storehouses —"
"Louder, Jochberg!" Eglofstein exclaimed. "I cannot understand a word!"
"— storehouses for victuals," I cried desperately, "and an arsenal for ammunition. Last but not least, is there sufficient space to accommodate the baggage of an army corps? Kindly ascertain, Colonel, whether the town fulfils our requirements in the aforementioned respects…" I broke off. "The next few lines are smudged, Captain." "Leave that letter and proceed to the next." I unfolded it, but the paper slipped through my fingers and fluttered to the floor. While stooping to retrieve it I heard Günther's voice once more, this time filled with reproach.
"I have implored you, dearest, to visit me now and then. Did he forbid you to leave the house? Ah, you obey his every last command ..."
Those words could only be addressed to her — to Françoise-Marie! The colonel's face stiffened and Eglofstein went white to the lips. I snatched up the letter and read it out so wildly, so frantically and desperately, that Donop, who had just entered the room, stopped short, open-mouthed and unable to grasp what was afoot.
"Colonel! The 25th Regiment of Chasseurs, which forms part of my division, has one hundred and fifty unmounted troopers at its cavalry depot. You should find it easy, in your part of the country, to remount those men by purchasing horses at moderate prices. Kindly make it your business to see that the regiment, which can muster only five hundred chargers in all, acquires another hundred remounts —"
"But that was done long ago!" Donop called from the doorway. "I myself—"
"Be silent!" Eglofstein told him furiously. "Proceed, Jochberg. What next?"
"Letter dated 18th December and signed by Marshal Soult himself: Colonel! The reports I have received from Vizcaya are such as to preclude my detaching a single man from there. The enemy is so intent on —"
I paused for breath, and in the very same moment I heard Günther utter my name.
"You!" he hissed. "Was it Jochberg taught you that new lover's trick? Was it Donop? Answer me!"
" The enemy is so intent on besieging the town," I bellowed, "that he has, in the past two months, constructed a growing number of large magazines in the vicinity — "
"Next!" cried Eglofstein.
"Letter dated 22nd December from Colonel Desnuettes, Chief of Staff: Colonel! I know as well as anyone how much it would redound to the Emperor's glory and advantage to proceed against Lord Wellington rather than against the rebel bands you mention. I cannot, however, advise the Marshal to grant your request, for I do not know —"
"What was it Desnuettes wrote?" the colonel broke in, his interest suddenly aroused. '"Cannot advise' — was that it?"
"Cannot, however, advise the Marshal to grant your request," I repeated. "He goes on: for I do not know what threat we may expect from Asturias in the coming winter. Moreover, I am too short of first-rate infantry to enable me to approve —"
"Stop!" the colonel burst out angrily. "What did you say: 'to approve'? Who is this Desnuettes to approve or recommend anything at all? His rank is no higher than mine. Eglofstein! Has this impudent communication been answered?"
"Not yet, Colonel."
"Take pen and paper. Write what I dictate and send it off at the first opportunity. I'll show Desnuettes!"
He strode angrily up and down the room. "Write as follows," he said. "Colonel! Henceforward, confine your good offices to transmitting my suggestions to the Marshal unaccompanied by any form of recommendation, and kindly inform me of his - No, that's not strong enough."
He had paused for thought and was silently moving his lips. I waited willy-nilly, unable to read on and uncertain what to do next. It was then, at the height of that breathless hush, that Günther spoke in his delirium — slowly, loudly, and with perfect clarity.
"Sweetheart," he said, "your blue buttercup — let me kiss it."
I do not know what went on inside me at that moment. Was I dazed,
or did a hundred dreadful visions flash through my head and promptly vanish into oblivion? I only know that, when I recovered my wits, the shock of the foregoing seconds lingered in the form of trembling hands and an ice-cold rivulet trickling down my spine. And then I collected my thoughts. The moment had come at last - the moment we had dreaded for a twelvemonth — but I commanded myself to take heart and stand firm. I plucked up my courage and looked at the colonel.
He was standing erect and motionless, his mouth a little twisted as if the migraine were upon him. He continued to stand like that for a while. Then, with a sudden movement, he turned to Eglofstein. The storm, I felt sure, was about to break.
Quite calmly and serenely — almost placidly — he said, "Where was I? Ah yes, Eglofstein, take this down: You would do well, Colonel, to confine yourself henceforward ..."
Was I dreaming? Was it possible? We had stolen his wife, he knew that now, yet he calmly continued to dictate his letter as if nothing untoward had happened. We all stared at him. Eglofstein sat there quill in hand, too stunned to write. Günther's voice impinged on the silence for a second time.
"The blue buttercup, do you hear?" he said. "Has Donop kissed it too, and Eglofstein, and Jochberg?"
Not a muscle of the colonel's face moved. He stood there in the watchful attitude of one listening, his lips a trifle pursed with sorrow or scorn. Then he turned abruptly toward the window. I now heard a distant sound from the street, a low hum, and he seemed to have ears for that alone.
Eglofstein rose with sudden decision. He flung down his quill, marched over to the colonel, and came to attention.
"Colonel," he said, straight as a ramrod, "I plead guilty. You may deal with me as you think fit, that goes without saying. I await your orders."
The colonel raised his head and looked at Eglofstein.
"My orders? The situation is too grave, I feel, to justify my depriving the regiment of even one of its officers for the sake of a mere bagatelle."
"A bagatelle?" Eglofstein said haltingly, returning the colonel's gaze.
A shrug. A careless wave of the hand.
"I was concerned to discover the truth, and now I know it. It fails to surprise me. The matter is over and done with."
I myself was numb with surprise and incomprehension. I had expected an outburst of fury, a passionate desire to destroy us all, only to be met with remarks that sounded cool and indifferent, almost philosophical.
When none of us spoke, the colonel went on, "I never cherished the illusion that the resemblance to which my senses succumbed was anything but superficial in the extreme. Face and deportment and colour of hair — yes, all those I found combined in her by some quirk of nature, but I never expected such a poor simulacrum to be faithful as well."
The din outside had grown louder and come closer, so much so that I could already pick out individual voices. Günther was still mumbling to himself, but none of us heeded his words.
"Why do you all look so puzzled?" said the colonel. "Did you seriously expect me to play the jealous pantaloon for the sake of a creature who has, I gather, made herself agreeable to every last one of you? A grand scene on account of such a trifle? Really, Eglofstein, I find you somewhat ridiculous at this moment. Now go and see what's up out there."
Eglofstein went to the window, threw both casements wide, and leaned out. I heard a confused hubbub. Then the din subsided. A gust of wind swept through the room, scattering the papers on the desk. Eglofstein came back.
"The mob broke through the cordon in the marketplace," he reported. "Lieutenant Lohwasser was dragged off his horse and mishandled."
"While we stand here arguing over women and affairs of the heart," exclaimed the colonel. "Come, Eglofstein!"
They snatched up their sabres and cloaks and hurried out, but a few seconds later Eglofstein returned alone.
"I'm pressed for time," he said quickly. "She must go, do you hear? He must not find her here on his return."
"Who must go?" asked Donop.
"Monjita. "
"Monjita? Was it really she of whom he spoke?" "Who else, in God's name? Do you imagine that any of us would have left this room alive had he guessed the truth? He never for a moment suspected that his wife had deceived him."
"And the blue buttercup?"
"Are you still groping in the dark?" Eglofstein said impatiently. "I saw you both standing there like dumb oxen. It dawned on me at once: he must have completed the illusion by etching the blue buttercup into Monjita's flesh, it's as plain as a pikestaff!"
"Mount up!" came the colonel's voice from below, followed by a clank of sabres and a jingle of spurs and accoutrements.
"She must go — now do you understand? He must never see her again or he'll learn the truth."
"But where shall she go?"
"That's your business. Out of this house — out of this town. I cannot stay."
He strode out. There was a minute's silence. Then I heard the multitudinous clatter of horses' hoofs receding in the direction of the marketplace.
THE FINAL SIGNAL
We found Monjita on the stairs. She was leaning against the bannisters staring blankly, listlessly, into space. She started at our approach, and we saw that her eyes were swimming with tears.
We both guessed at once from her distracted expression that she had encountered the colonel as he was leaving the house. Whatever it was that had so distressed her — a scornful remark, a hostile glance, a contemptuous gesture of dismissal, or merely the look on his face - she stood there helpless and despairing, at a loss to account for her lover's changed demeanour.
Donop went up to her and announced that she must leave the house. He had, he said, been ordered to take her to a place of greater safety, for it was feared that the town would be bombarded afresh when darkness fell.
Monjita might not have heard a word of what he told her.
"What's amiss?" she cried. "He was angry - angrier than I have ever seen him. Where has he gone? When will he return?"
Donop urged her to trust him and come with us. It would, he said, be foolish and dangerous to remain where she was.
Monjita fixed him with an uncomprehending gaze. Then, quite suddenly, her dismay turned to anger.
"You must have told the colonel that you met the tailor's son at my father's house — it must have been you or one of your friends. You did wrong, sir, for now he thinks the worst of me."
Knowing nothing of this "tailor's son", we stared at her in surprise.
"This much is true and the colonel knows it," she went on. "I did have a lover, but I have shunned him these last six months or more. It was through no fault of mine that I met him yesterday in my father's work-room. He had offered to impersonate Joseph of Arimathea for a real-and-a-half, but he did so only in order to see me. This morning, when I went to the window, he was loitering in the street below. He waved to me, but I ignored him. That's all there is to tell. Take me to the colonel - I'll convince him that I've done nothing wrong."
"The colonel is inspecting our forward positions," Donop said, abashed. "He will remain there all night - tomorrow as well, perhaps."
"Take me to him!" Monjita entreated. "Tell me how I can get to him and God will reward you both with a thousand years of bliss."
Donop glanced at me briefly. We felt ashamed that the unjust course of action on which we were embarked should have compelled us to lie and confirm Monjita in her misapprehension, but we had no choice. The colonel could never be permitted to see her again.
"Very well," said Donop, "please yourself, but the outposts are a long way off and well within range of the enemy's guns."
"No matter," Monjita cried joyfully. "I'll swim the river if I must."
But all at once mistrust took hold of her, or so it seemed, perhaps because she remembered how we had pestered her to spend the night with us. She looked long and searchingly, first at Donop, then at me, as if she feared we still had designs on her.
"Wait here for me," she said. "I must go upsta
irs to fetch some things for the night. I shall not be long."
She returned after a while, bearing a small bundle. When I offered to carry it for her, she surrendered it with a hint of reluctance.
It was light — so light that I scarcely felt its weight. I held it in my hand, unaware that what I carried was perdition itself.
That little bundle spelled our inexorable doom and the destruction of the regiment: it contained the final signal.
I had arranged with Donop that I should guide Monjita through our lines and escort her to an enemy outpost. Attached to all guerrilla bands were British staff officers dispatched by Wellington and Rowland Hill to advise their commanders on all matters relating to the art of warfare. I intended to parley with one of them under a flag of truce and entrust Monjita to his care, representing her as a lady of quality for whom the commander of the beleaguered garrison solicited the enemy's protection.
I had resolved to row up the river in a boat, for all that I had seen during my early morning sortie persuaded me that this would be the safest route. Moreover, should the guerrillas decline to respect a flag of truce, I would have some prospect of getting out of range at speed by using the current and keeping to the shelter of the bushes on the bank.
We boarded the skiff at a spot below the walls where the town's many washerwomen ordinarily plied their trade. I took the oars while Monjita crouched in the bottom of the boat with her bundle.
Shots could be heard from the vicinity of the marketplace - an ominous sign. Fighting was in progress against the insurgents, and it must have proved difficult to quell them, for the colonel would not otherwise have given the order to open fire. Darkness was falling when Donop took leave of me with a handshake. His expression conveyed doubt and concern, together with the fear that we would never meet again, for my mission was fraught with danger and far from assured of success.
A moist wind smote my cheeks as I slowly and silently dipped the oars and the river scents rose around me. Carried downstream by the current, large ice-floes and clumps of uprooted brushwood and reeds grazed the sides of the boat. I had to duck my head at times to avoid being struck by the willows whose naked branches reached far out across the water. In the distance, the river and the dusky outlines of the bushes that flanked it merged into one immense nocturnal shadow.
