A Story

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  He was employed in these efforts when the doctor entered, along with

  Mr. Brock and Mr. Trippet; who was not a little pleased to hear that

  the poisoned punch had not in all probability been given to him. He

  was recommended to take some of the Count's mixture, as a

  precautionary measure; but this he refused, and retired home,

  leaving the Count under charge of the physician and his faithful

  corporal.

  It is not necessary to say what further remedies were employed by

  them to restore the Captain to health; but after some time the

  doctor, pronouncing that the danger was, he hoped, averted,

  recommended that his patient should be put to bed, and that somebody

  should sit by him; which Brock promised to do.

  "That she-devil will murder me, if you don't," gasped the poor

  Count. "You must turn her out of the bedroom; or break open the

  door, if she refuses to let you in."

  And this step was found to be necessary; for, after shouting many

  times, and in vain, Mr. Brock found a small iron bar (indeed, he had

  the instrument for many days in his pocket), and forced the lock.

  The room was empty, the window was open: the pretty barmaid of the

  "Bugle" had fled.

  "The chest," said the Count--"is the chest safe?"

  The Corporal flew to the bed, under which it was screwed, and

  looked, and said, "It IS safe, thank Heaven!" The window was

  closed. The Captain, who was too weak to stand without help, was

  undressed and put to bed. The Corporal sat down by his side;

  slumber stole over the eyes of the patient; and his wakeful nurse

  marked with satisfaction the progress of the beneficent restorer of

  health.

  When the Captain awoke, as he did some time afterwards, he found,

  very much to his surprise, that a gag had been placed in his mouth,

  and that the Corporal was in the act of wheeling his bed to another

  part of the room. He attempted to move, and gave utterance to such

  unintelligible sounds as could issue through a silk handkerchief.

  "If your honour stirs or cries out in the least, I will cut your

  honour's throat," said the Corporal.

  And then, having recourse to his iron bar (the reader will now see

  why he was provided with such an implement, for he had been

  meditating this coup for some days), he proceeded first to attempt

  to burst the lock of the little iron chest in which the Count kept

  his treasure, and, failing in this, to unscrew it from the ground;

  which operation he performed satisfactorily.

  "You see, Count," said he, calmly, "when rogues fall out there's the

  deuce to pay. You'll have me drummed out of the regiment, will you?

  I'm going to leave it of my own accord, look you, and to live like a

  gentleman for the rest of my days. Schlafen Sie wohl, noble

  Captain: bon repos. The Squire will be with you pretty early in

  the morning, to ask for the money you owe him."

  With these sarcastic observations Mr. Brock departed; not by the

  window, as Mrs. Catherine had done, but by the door, quietly, and so

  into the street. And when, the next morning, the doctor came to

  visit his patient, he brought with him a story how, at the dead of

  night, Mr. Brock had roused the ostler at the stables where the

  Captain's horses were kept--had told him that Mrs. Catherine had

  poisoned the Count, and had run off with a thousand pounds; and how

  he and all lovers of justice ought to scour the country in pursuit

  of the criminal. For this end Mr. Brock mounted the Count's best

  horse--that very animal on which he had carried away Mrs. Catherine:

  and thus, on a single night, Count Maximilian had lost his mistress,

  his money, his horse, his corporal, and was very near losing his

  life.

  CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH MRS. CATHERINE BECOMES AN HONEST WOMAN AGAIN.

  In this woeful plight, moneyless, wifeless, horseless, corporalless,

  with a gag in his mouth and a rope round his body, are we compelled

  to leave the gallant Galgenstein, until his friends and the progress

  of this history shall deliver him from his durance. Mr. Brock's

  adventures on the Captain's horse must likewise be pretermitted; for

  it is our business to follow Mrs. Catherine through the window by

  which she made her escape, and among the various chances that befell

  her.

  She had one cause to congratulate herself,--that she had not her

  baby at her back; for the infant was safely housed under the care of

  a nurse, to whom the Captain was answerable. Beyond this her

  prospects were but dismal: no home to fly to, but a few shillings

  in her pocket, and a whole heap of injuries and dark revengeful

  thoughts in her bosom: it was a sad task to her to look either

  backwards or forwards. Whither was she to fly? How to live? What

  good chance was to befriend her? There was an angel watching over

  the steps of Mrs. Cat--not a good one, I think, but one of those

  from that unnameable place, who have their many subjects here on

  earth, and often are pleased to extricate them from worse

  perplexities.

  Mrs. Cat, now, had not committed murder, but as bad as murder; and

  as she felt not the smallest repentance in her heart--as she had, in

  the course of her life and connection with the Captain, performed

  and gloried in a number of wicked coquetries, idlenesses, vanities,

  lies, fits of anger, slanders, foul abuses, and what not--she was

  fairly bound over to this dark angel whom we have alluded to; and he

  dealt with her, and aided her, as one of his own children.

  I do not mean to say that, in this strait, he appeared to her in the

  likeness of a gentleman in black, and made her sign her name in

  blood to a document conveying over to him her soul, in exchange for

  certain conditions to be performed by him. Such diabolical bargains

  have always appeared to me unworthy of the astute personage who is

  supposed to be one of the parties to them; and who would scarcely be

  fool enough to pay dearly for that which he can have in a few years

  for nothing. It is not, then, to be supposed that a demon of

  darkness appeared to Mrs. Cat, and led her into a flaming chariot

  harnessed by dragons, and careering through air at the rate of a

  thousand leagues a minute. No such thing; the vehicle that was sent

  to aid her was one of a much more vulgar description.

  The "Liverpool carryvan," then, which in the year 1706 used to

  perform the journey between London and that place in ten days, left

  Birmingham about an hour after Mrs. Catherine had quitted that town;

  and as she sat weeping on a hillside, and plunged in bitter

  meditation, the lumbering, jingling vehicle overtook her. The

  coachman was marching by the side of his horses, and encouraging

  them to maintain their pace of two miles an hour; the passengers had

  some of them left the vehicle, in order to walk up the hill; and the

  carriage had arrived at the top of it, and, meditating a brisk trot

  down the declivity, waited there until the lagging passengers should

  arrive: when Jehu, casting a good-natured glance upon Mrs.

  Catherine, asked
the pretty maid whence she was come, and whether

  she would like a ride in his carriage. To the latter of which

  questions Mrs. Catherine replied truly yes; to the former, her

  answer was that she had come from Stratford; whereas, as we very

  well know, she had lately quitted Birmingham.

  "Hast thee seen a woman pass this way, on a black horse, with a

  large bag of goold over the saddle?" said Jehu, preparing to mount

  upon the roof of his coach.

  "No, indeed," said Mrs. Cat.

  "Nor a trooper on another horse after her--no? Well, there be a

  mortal row down Birmingham way about sich a one. She have killed,

  they say, nine gentlemen at supper, and have strangled a German

  prince in bed. She have robbed him of twenty thousand guineas, and

  have rode away on a black horse."

  "That can't be I," said Mrs. Cat, naively, "for I have but three

  shillings and a groat."

  "No, it can't be thee, truly, for where's your bag of goold? and,

  besides, thee hast got too pretty a face to do such wicked things as

  to kill nine gentlemen and strangle a German prince."

  "Law, coachman," said Mrs. Cat, blushing archly--",Law, coachman, DO

  you think so?" The girl would have been pleased with a compliment

  even on her way to be hanged; and the parley ended by Mrs. Catherine

  stepping into the carriage, where there was room for eight people at

  least, and where two or three individuals had already taken their

  places. For these Mrs. Catherine had in the first place to make a

  story, which she did; and a very glib one for a person of her years

  and education. Being asked whither she was bound, and how she came

  to be alone of a morning sitting by a road-side, she invented a neat

  history suitable to the occasion, which elicited much interest from

  her fellow-passengers: one in particular, a young man, who had

  caught a glimpse of her face under her hood, was very tender in his

  attentions to her.

  But whether it was that she had been too much fatigued by the

  occurrences of the past day and sleepless night, or whether the

  little laudanum which she had drunk a few hours previously now began

  to act upon her, certain it is that Mrs. Cat now suddenly grew sick,

  feverish, and extraordinarily sleepy; and in this state she

  continued for many hours, to the pity of all her fellow-travellers.

  At length the "carryvan" reached the inn, where horses and

  passengers were accustomed to rest for a few hours, and to dine; and

  Mrs. Catherine was somewhat awakened by the stir of the passengers,

  and the friendly voice of the inn-servant welcoming them to dinner.

  The gentleman who had been smitten by her beauty now urged her very

  politely to descend; which, taking the protection of his arm, she

  accordingly did.

  He made some very gallant speeches to her as she stepped out; and

  she must have been very much occupied by them, or wrapt up in her

  own thoughts, or stupefied by sleep, fever, and opium, for she did

  not take any heed of the place into which she was going: which, had

  she done, she would probably have preferred remaining in the coach,

  dinnerless and ill. Indeed, the inn into which she was about to

  make her entrance was no other than the "Bugle," from which she set

  forth at the commencement of this history; and which then, as now,

  was kept by her relative, the thrifty Mrs. Score. That good

  landlady, seeing a lady, in a smart hood and cloak, leaning, as if

  faint, upon the arm of a gentleman of good appearance, concluded

  them to be man and wife, and folks of quality too; and with much

  discrimination, as well as sympathy, led them through the public

  kitchen to her own private parlour, or bar, where she handed the

  lady an armchair, and asked what she would like to drink. By this

  time, and indeed at the very moment she heard her aunt's voice, Mrs.

  Catherine was aware of her situation; and when her companion

  retired, and the landlady, with much officiousness, insisted on

  removing her hood, she was quite prepared for the screech of

  surprise which Mrs. Score gave on dropping it, exclaiming, "Why, law

  bless us, it's our Catherine!"

  "I'm very ill, and tired, aunt," said Cat; "and would give the world

  for a few hours' sleep."

  "A few hours and welcome, my love, and a sack-posset too. You do

  look sadly tired and poorly, sure enough. Ah, Cat, Cat! you great

  ladies are sad rakes, I do believe. I wager now, that with all your

  balls, and carriages, and fine clothes, you are neither so happy nor

  so well as when you lived with your poor old aunt, who used to love

  you so." And with these gentle words, and an embrace or two, which

  Mrs. Catherine wondered at, and permitted, she was conducted to that

  very bed which the Count had occupied a year previously, and

  undressed, and laid in it, and affectionately tucked up by her aunt,

  who marvelled at the fineness of her clothes, as she removed them

  piece by piece; and when she saw that in Mrs. Catherine's pocket

  there was only the sum of three and fourpence, said, archly, "There

  was no need of money, for the Captain took care of that."

  Mrs. Cat did not undeceive her; and deceived Mrs. Score certainly

  was,--for she imagined the well-dressed gentleman who led Cat from

  the carriage was no other than the Count; and, as she had heard,

  from time to time, exaggerated reports of the splendour of the

  establishment which he kept up, she was induced to look upon her

  niece with the very highest respect, and to treat her as if she were

  a fine lady. "And so she IS a fine lady," Mrs. Score had said

  months ago, when some of these flattering stories reached her, and

  she had overcome her first fury at Catherine's elopement. "The girl

  was very cruel to leave me; but we must recollect that she is as

  good as married to a nobleman, and must all forget and forgive, you

  know."

  This speech had been made to Doctor Dobbs, who was in the habit of

  taking a pipe and a tankard at the "Bugle," and it had been roundly

  reprobated by the worthy divine; who told Mrs. Score, that the crime

  of Catherine was only the more heinous, if it had been committed

  from interested motives; and protested that, were she a princess, he

  would never speak to her again. Mrs. Score thought and pronounced

  the Doctor's opinion to be very bigoted; indeed, she was one of

  those persons who have a marvellous respect for prosperity, and a

  corresponding scorn for ill-fortune. When, therefore, she returned

  to the public room, she went graciously to the gentleman who had led

  Mrs. Catherine from the carriage, and with a knowing curtsey

  welcomed him to the "Bugle;" told him that his lady would not come

  to dinner, but bade her say, with her best love to his Lordship,

  that the ride had fatigued her, and that she would lie in bed for an

  hour or two.

  This speech was received with much wonder by his Lordship; who was,

  indeed, no other than a Liverpool tailor going to London to learn

  fashions; but he only smiled, and did not undeceive the landlady,

  who herself went of
f, smilingly, to bustle about dinner.

  The two or three hours allotted to that meal by the liberal

  coachmasters of those days passed away, and Mr. Coachman, declaring

  that his horses were now rested enough, and that they had twelve

  miles to ride, put the steeds to, and summoned the passengers. Mrs.

  Score, who had seen with much satisfaction that her niece was really

  ill, and her fever more violent, and hoped to have her for many days

  an inmate in her house, now came forward, and casting upon the

  Liverpool tailor a look of profound but respectful melancholy, said,

  "My Lord (for I recollect your Lordship quite well), the lady

  upstairs is so ill, that it would be a sin to move her: had I not

  better tell coachman to take down your Lordship's trunks, and the

  lady's, and make you a bed in the next room?"

  Very much to her surprise, this proposition was received with a roar

  of laughter. "Madam," said the person addressed, "I'm not a lord,

  but a tailor and draper; and as for that young woman, before to-day

  I never set eyes on her."

  "WHAT!" screamed out Mrs. Score. "Are not you the Count? Do you

  mean to say that you a'n't Cat's--? DO you mean to say that you

  didn't order her bed, and that you won't pay this here little bill?"

  And with this she produced a document, by which the Count's lady was

  made her debtor in a sum of half-a-guinea.

  These passionate words excited more and more laughter. "Pay it, my

  Lord," said the coachman; "and then come along, for time presses."

  "Our respects to her Ladyship," said one passenger. "Tell her my

  Lord can't wait," said another; and with much merriment one and all

  quitted the hotel, entered the coach, and rattled off.

  Dumb--pale with terror and rage--bill in hand, Mrs. Score had

  followed the company; but when the coach disappeared, her senses

  returned. Back she flew into the inn, overturning the ostler, not

  deigning to answer Doctor Dobbs (who, from behind soft

  tobacco-fumes, mildly asked the reason of her disturbance), and,

  bounding upstairs like a fury, she rushed into the room where

  Catherine lay.

  "Well, madam!" said she, in her highest key, "do you mean that you

  have come into this here house to swindle me? Do you dare for to

  come with your airs here, and call yourself a nobleman's lady, and

  sleep in the best bed, when you're no better nor a common tramper?

  I'll thank you, ma'am, to get out, ma'am. I'll have no sick paupers

  in this house, ma'am. You know your way to the workhouse, ma'am,

  and there I'll trouble you for to go." And here Mrs. Score

  proceeded quickly to pull off the bedclothes; and poor Cat arose,

  shivering with fright and fever.

  She had no spirit to answer, as she would have done the day before,

  when an oath from any human being would have brought half-a-dozen

  from her in return; or a knife, or a plate, or a leg of mutton, if

  such had been to her hand. She had no spirit left for such

  repartees; but in reply to the above words of Mrs. Score, and a

  great many more of the same kind--which are not necessary for our

  history, but which that lady uttered with inconceivable shrillness

  and volubility, the poor wench could say little,--only sob and

  shiver, and gather up the clothes again, crying, "Oh, aunt, don't

  speak unkind to me! I'm very unhappy, and very ill!"

  "Ill, you strumpet! ill, be hanged! Ill is as ill does; and if you

  are ill, it's only what you merit. Get out! dress yourself--tramp!

  Get to the workhouse, and don't come to cheat me any more! Dress

  yourself--do you hear? Satin petticoat forsooth, and lace to her

  smock!"

  Poor, wretched, chattering, burning, shivering Catherine huddled on

  her clothes as well she might: she seemed hardly to know or see

  what she was doing, and did not reply a single word to the many that

  the landlady let fall. Cat tottered down the narrow stairs, and

  through the kitchen, and to the door; which she caught hold of, and